


The Serendipity in One's Work

by RiYuYami



Category: Good Omens (TV), Good Omens - Neil Gaiman & Terry Pratchett
Genre: Angel Crowley (Good Omens), Aziraphale is a Human, Crowley is an angel but he's still his wily self, Depression is a bitch but somehow you can get a celestial boyfriend from it, Genderfluid Crowley (Good Omens), Guardian Angels, M/M, Past Character Death, Things and people are more than what they appear
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-01-02
Updated: 2020-02-07
Packaged: 2021-02-27 04:34:44
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 6
Words: 22,268
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22091143
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/RiYuYami/pseuds/RiYuYami
Summary: Crowley is not the best angel for the job, he’s technically a mail clerk in Heaven, ‘answering’ prayers that are seen as junk mail, but when Gabriel finally gives him the task of being a Guardian Angel, he takes it right up.Now he’s got a ‘real’ job, as he puts it, helping to fix up the life of a depressed bookseller who won’t give any hints as to what has damaged his life in recent years.
Relationships: Aziraphale & Anathema Device, Aziraphale & Crowley (Good Omens), Aziraphale/Crowley (Good Omens), Crowley & Madame Tracy
Comments: 46
Kudos: 68





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> So, I had actually written something else completely for this first chapter, but due to my laptop crashing while I wrote six whole pages, the file was completely corrupted and can no longer be opened, so I’m forced to rewrite it. But, since I came up with a better way of going about writing this, I think it was for the best. A terrible miracle or whatnot, but here we are.
> 
> Warning: depression, Crowley is an angel and not a demon but his personality is still the same, Aziraphale is suffering from a number of things, dark thoughts (vague but you get the picture), Aziraphale and Crowley only share one brain cell and Crowley has it most of the time, witchcraft (somewhat), character death (mentioned, probably won’t be seen, it happened in the past, but Crowley was once human)
> 
> On with the fic!

_‘Dear God, please let me pass this final exam! I promise to help at the bake sale mom’s dragging me to_!’

That one goes to the right.

_‘God, if you don’t let me fuck this chick in the next five mi-’_

Not even gonna see where that’s going, it’s just gonna end up in the trash. Oh, there it goes, and now it’s on fire, beautiful.

_‘God, my grandma is really sick-’_

And to the left with you, sounds a bit more urgent.

A knock at the door stopped the reading of the next note in front of the man at his desk. Crowley glanced up, golden eyes of a snake focused on the shaded figure behind the foggy glass of his office door’s window. He knew who it was so easily, broad shoulders and head the shape of a brick. It was clearly Gabriel.

“Come in.” He sighed, putting the next note into the garbage can next to his desk, where it burst into flames for a moment and then became nothing. Another creepy ‘prayer’ that God clearly wanted nothing to do with.

The door opened and Gabriel stepped in, all plastic smiles and the straight back-ness he was known for. The mail clerk paused in his next reading and adjusted his shades. “What’s up?” He asked, no hint of a greeting to his tone.

Gabriel completely ignored that, still smiling. “Crawley!” He greeted, ignoring the way the other angel grimaced at the wrong name. He’s been working here for what, five years now? And people still called him by his old name. The Archangel knew his name was Crowley, but only used Crawley when he was annoyed with him. “Just the angel I was looking for!”

“Oh shit, what did I apparently do this time?” The redhead asked, feeling a headache coming on. “Look, if this is about Uriel and the coffee machine malfunctioning, it wasn’t my doing. I saw that little punk from accounting hitting it, you know I don’t use that one, got my own maker.”

He gestured to the Keurig he had used a miracle to make when he first got this job, he was never one to share coffee with others and he had his own way of doing things. The other angels were annoyed at first, but they let it slide cause they didn’t have to see much of him in the break room.

“I have no idea what you’re talking about, though that might explain her bad mood earlier.” The violet-eyed man mumbled under his breath that last part, then he shook his head. “No, that’s not why I’m here. I just got a wonderful memo! You’ve been promoted!”

Crowley raised an eyebrow, removing his shades to look at him better. He ignored Gabriel’s face at seeing his eyes, human-born angels always had imperfections, made them different from natural angels, apparently. Snake eyes and black wings for Crowley, not that he minded, fit his aesthetic when he had been human. “You’re kidding, right? I’ve been here since you pulled my dumb ass off Earth, stuck sorting prayers, and only now I’m getting a promotion? What is it? Am I now sorting through natural disasters? Cause that’s more of a demotion if you ask me.”

“Shut up.” Gabriel huffed. “No, it’s a real promotion, your forms finally went through.”

This caught the other’s attention, making him sit up straight. “You mean-?”

“Yes, you’re now, officially, a Guardian Angel.” Gabriel said with no fanfare, but Crowley didn’t expect that to happen anyway.

The redhead grinned, standing up from his desk. Originally, when he first died, he had spoken with St. Peter, who gave him a bit of a rundown of why he wasn’t being put through the Pearly Gates. Apparently, his soul was deemed decent enough for the role of an angel, which made no sense to someone like Crowley, but he wasn’t complaining when he got his heavenly changes to his once-human form.

Some slight changes, like the eyes, wings, the ability to be a snake, and other things, but St. Peter had told him that he was most likely going to be a Guardian Angel, out there helping those in need.

However, there was paperwork, and it sometimes takes forever for that to go through, so until then, he was given a low-rank job. Stuck in the mail department, as the other angels called it, basically seeing what prayers worth angel time were, as well as God’s time, Jesus’ time, and what belonged to the holy fire that destroyed it from existence. Not a great job, but it was something to occupy Crowley’s time.

Heaven, as beautiful as it seemed, at first, was boring as all get out. There wasn’t much to do in terms of fun, outside of some office parties or when things went array due to angels not understanding human technology that was suddenly brought into their daily lives cause one of the Higher Ranking Angels thought it was a good addition.

Oh, and how Crowley missed the chaos of humans and Earth. 

Sure, not everything was perfect there, but he still had things he enjoyed. He missed his flat, he missed his plants (even the ones that bugged him to no end), he missed his sweet neighbor who liked being a psychic or the crazy ‘witchfinder’ who lived across from her. He missed his life style (okay, not all of it, but he missed looking cool in black, grays only get you so far in the afterlife), and he greatly missed his car.

But being a Guardian Angel would give him the chance to return! He’d just need to find a good human who lived in London, who would allow him the freedom to move about! That’s not always the case, from what he’s read up on and heard. Guardian Angels tended to stay in the shadows, performing miracles, always staying close to their human but out of sight, rarely did they ever appear for them. It wasn’t against the rules to be seen, but lots of angels (both natural and human-born) didn’t care for humans and stuck to being distant, but Crowley wasn’t having that.

“What’s my case?” He asked, excited like a puppy with a new toy, or when he first found his Bentley.

Gabriel snapped his fingers, a manilla envelope appeared in his hand, which he handed over. Crowley was quick to open it up and take a look. The file was too thin, just two sheets of paper and a photo paperclipped to first paper.

The second sheet was address information, basic details about his job and whatnot, but the first page was a short profile on the man in the picture.

**Aziraphale Zacharia Fell IV**

**Age: 47**

**Case number: 30081210MS**

**Height: 177.8 cm**

**Eyes: Hazel**

**Hair: Blond**

**Occupation: Bookstore owner**

**Reason for Guardian: depression, PTSD, can’t seem to function properly from incident he won’t talk to anyone about, having certain thoughts that could lead him to Purgatory or Hell, lost faith, boring** (this, Crowley noted, was added with an ^ and written in pen) **, needs to be happy again**

Crowley looked at the photo, it was of a man who seemed on the pudgy side, dressed in clothes that were a weird blend of Victorian and the 1900s, with curls of blond so pale that they were almost white. Honestly, in Crowley’s opinion, he was cute in an old timey sort of way, like one of those people you see at reenactments. Or who owns an antique store.

He frowned as he read over the reason section again. He could see that the man was clearly not happy in the picture, he seemed more lost in thought than anything else. “So, what am I supposed to do?” He asked as he closed the folder.

“Basically, do what you can to find out what has him so upset and then make him happy. After that, come back to Heaven, we’ll find you a better case to deal with. This might not take too long, you were human, you know how to deal with their lot.”

From what Crowley could tell, this was one of those cases that was forgotten about, left for someone else to do. Lots of the Guardian Angels liked working with kids or famous people, not nobodies who would be forgotten quickly if something happened to them. He adjusted his shades back on his face and set the folder down.

“Alright, when do I head out?”

\--

“Heading out?”

Aziraphale paused at the front door to his shop, turning around to see the woman who asked him the question. He smiled at his assistant, and only hired employee, giving her a little nod. “I felt like having a bit of fresh air, been stuck in my office all day doing accounting work on the computer. I might go grab a little nibble, do you want anything, dear?”

The American smiled, shaking her head. “Maybe a latte, if you’re gonna stop by that café two blocks away, you know how I like it.”

“Right, well, watch the shop for me! I’ll be back in a bit, I’ll call if anything comes up, or you call me.”

“Do you at least have your phone?”

Reaching into his coat pocket, Aziraphale held up his outdated cellphone from at least six years ago. He gave it a little shake, still smiling tiredly at her. With a goodbye, he stepped out the door and into the streets of his little patch of Soho.

His smile was gone as he walked, how long has it been since he’s taken time off work to do this? He couldn’t remember, probably at least five years or so, hadn’t felt right to do so. But as he had been sitting at his computer, already done with his accounting work, and was actually online doing book research, he had felt the sudden urge to take a walk.

Quietly, he let his feet move him, he had no idea where he was going, but he was still moving about. He really should go back to the shop, not that he had anything to sell today. Or ever, he really hated selling anything from his collection, and his grandfather’s collection as well, or that man’s grandfather’s and so on. His dear assistant, Anathema, knew better than to sell a single book unless if he had extras he was willing to part with.

But why was he out and about, this was a terrible idea! The weather was cold, and the wind made it worse, the sky was so dark with gray clouds that some street lights were already on! And it was only in the afternoon, he was going to get rained on for sure…

He somehow found himself down a path in St. James Park, oh, he hadn’t been here in ages, never found the time. He was always so absorbed in his work and reading nowadays, he rarely traveled. Except for the few times he found himself in Tadfield, at the old cottage his family owned, just to take a little break from it all. It helped get his mind out of its own storm clouds, but not for long.

If it wasn’t for his love of Soho and his bookshop, Aziraphale would have moved out to that cottage for good.

He came to a stop by a large bit of water, seeing ducks moving about, not caring for the cold weather at all, or the fact that Aziraphale seemed to be the only person here. He hadn’t seen another person walking around since he realized where his wandering had sent him. Quite a distance too, he hadn’t even noticed, it seemed like it happened in the blink of an eye! Almost like a miracle took him here without him noticing.

He offered a little smile at the ducks as they swam about. Oh, how nice it would be to be a duck, with no real troubles to worry about except if someone was going to give out bits of lettuce or peas for a tasty snack instead of bread.

Aziraphale stepped a little closer when he noticed something in the reflection of the water. Something strange in shape, was it below the water or reflected? Looked almost like a bird, was a duck flapping its wings under the surface, could they do that-

He leaned too close and nearly toppled over, almost falling into the cold waters, when something latched onto the back of his jacket. His eyes were wide as he looked at himself above the water, seeing large, dark wings coming from his back. Turning his head, he gaped in shock at the figure that held his jacket in a death grip.

There was a man behind him, dressed in dark clothing, too nice and stylish for someone like Aziraphale to ever wear, with the strangest shades he’d ever seen. The man was lean, too thin, hair a fiery copper and styled like he ran his fingers through it in the morning.

But his sense of style and appearance was not what had the bookseller staring with wide, hazel eyes.

No, it was the black, massive wings that came from his back, flapping, allowing him to be off the ground before he pulled Aziraphale back suddenly, now flushed against the man’s chest. He was speechless as he looked at the winged stranger’s face, he could see a snake tattooed on the right side of his face, his shades were too dark to make out eyes and shielded on the sides.

“Well, that introduction went down like a lead balloon.” The stranger spoke, his voice slightly accented, sounding a bit amused.

“I-I’m sorry, what?” Aziraphale stammered out, finally finding his voice.

“I said, ‘well, that introduction went down like a lead balloon.’” The stranger repeated before adjusting them both so that they were apart but facing one another. Aziraphale swallowed the lump in his throat, looking over at the wings that gently shifted about.

“What… how in Heaven’s…” A finger was suddenly pressed to the blond’s lips.

“Heaven’s name, yes, right, it’s cause of the Upstairs that I’m here, Aziraphale.”

This made the man frown. “How do you know my name?” He asked after he gently pushed the hand away.

“I know who you are because I am your Guardian Angel.” The other smirked, giving a bit of a bow as his wings folded behind himself.

This just raised more questions. “Angel? W-what are you going on about, my boy? Angels are not real.” Well, he used to believe they were, his family’s had been obsessed with them, to the point that even he was named after one, one that his great, great grandfather was named after. But he gave up on believing in much when things took a nosedive in his life.

“If I’m not real, then how can I do this?” The other asked before he moved off the ground with a great flap of his dark wings, now fluttering above Aziraphale. “Explain that, book boy.”

“Either a trick with wires for a prank, or I’m actually dead in the waters with the ducks nipping at me.”

The ‘angel’ snorted as he dropped back to the ground, his wings now gone, his arms crossed over his chest. “Bullshit, you ain’t dead, I can’t let that happen. As your Guardian Angel, it’s my job to keep you safe and make you happy!”

“Make me happy?”

“Yep, it’s my job!”

“Where were you years ago when my troubles started then?”

The stranger paused and then pulled a face. “Look, not everything is done by the power of The Almighty in one go. Heaven is full of too much paperwork, and we don’t have enough angels to work with all seven billion of you on Earth. I just finally got this job and you are my first human, so shut it. You’re stuck with me, and it’s better than having no help from Above anyway, right?”

Aziraphale frowned but shrugged. “I suppose you are correct on that matter, still seems rather fishy to me that you’ve suddenly came into my life.”

“Again, paperwork.”

“Can I at least know your name? Seeing as you know mine?”

A hand was suddenly thrust at him, but the stranger appeared greatly relaxed, even putting his other hand into his pocket as he leaned on one leg. “Anthony J. Crowley, at your service. I’m your personal Guardian Angel, here to do whatever I can to make you a bit more cheerful, Aziraphale.”

The bookseller looked at the hand before taking it, finding the grip gentle, yet strong, long fingers wrapping around his own hand in return. They gave a little shake. “Aziraphale Fell, pleasure to make your acquaintance, Anthony.”

“Same to you, but please, call me Crowley.” Crowley smirked, and even with the shades on, Aziraphale knew he just got winked at. He swallowed, his throat felt dry.

There was suddenly a very loud crack of thunder above their heads, and it almost seemed cliché as it began to rain, hard. “Bloody hell…” Crowley grumbled as he glanced up, before something was suddenly placed over his head. He looked towards Aziraphale, who had removed his jacket, placing it over the angel’s head.

“Sorry, I felt it was appropriate to offer you my jacket, yes? I mean, if you’re here to help me, I might as well return the gesture.” Aziraphale offered a gentle smile, his face looking a little flushed from the cold. Something seemed to punch Crowley internally all of a sudden, but he shook it off.

“Thanks, Aziraphale.” There was another crack of thunder. “Think we should get out of here.”

“Oh yes, we should, we can go to my bookstore. Let’s get a taxi, it’ll make things easier.”

“Nah, I got it.” Crowley replied before snapping his fingers, and suddenly they were in an alley in Soho, out of sight of people. Aziraphale gasped, startled, looking around. “It’s a miracle.” The angel replied, like it was basic knowledge.

“R-Right, uh, let’s stop at a café first, grab something warm. I told someone I would, and I’ll even buy you something…!” Aziraphale spoke, moving out of the alley and into the rain.

Crowley stood there for a moment, adjusting the jacket over his head. Well, this job just took a turn for the interesting. Boring? Ha! He’d need to cross that out when he got the chance to look at the file again.

TBC

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Aziraphale’s file is full of references.
> 
> His case number is a combination of his and Crowley’s prophesies from Agnus Nutter, along with Michael Sheen’s initials. And his height and eye color are his actor’s (because, surprise! Michael has hazel eyes with a bit of blue in them! I don’t blame people for saying they’re blue, they are a bit, but he’s stated in an interview that they’re hazel and certain lights make them look different. So basically, for my own headcanon, Aziraphale had eyes of two colors, but it’s easier to just say hazel).
> 
> His middle name being Zacharia is not canon, cause we actually don’t know what his A. Z. Fell name really means (could just be letters, like Crowley’s middle name being just a J), but I felt like it would be fitting for him.
> 
> Next chapter: Aziraphale learns a bit more of what a Guardian Angel can do, and why is Anathema finding this so funny?
> 
> Thanks for reading! Please kudos and comment!


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Summery: Aziraphale takes his Guardian Angel back to his home and learns a bit about what angels are really like. Anathema also seems like she knows more than she’s letting on about the situation, but he should have seen that coming.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you everyone for the comments and kudos! :D 
> 
> On with the fic!

The café was warm, smelled like fresh baked things and coffee. Oh, Crowley had missed these little things in life. Heaven always smelled like when you walked into an Apple Store, with the slightest hint of pine somewhere in there. He removed the jacket, shaking it out a bit before closing the door. Aziraphale was a bit soaked, but it didn’t seem to bother him as he made his way up to the counter, placing an order for a cinnamon and honey latte, a peppermint cocoa, and Crowley’s cappuccino. It seems he also had his eyes on the display case full of baked goods and pointed at a few things.

Quietly, Crowley approached the bookseller, who was finishing up with paying. He wanted to give the man back his coat, the rain was probably hell on that old waistcoat he wore, that he could just miracle up an umbrella for himself, but…

There was something interesting about the gesture that seemed to have some sort of effect on Crowley, one he couldn’t really place. Maybe it was the fact that a stranger had performed such a kind gesture to an angel? Or maybe because it was the nicest thing someone’s done for him in years and wow, that one sounded so pathetic that the angel quickly crossed that out.

He was taken from his thoughts when something was handed to him, a baggie with the café’s logo on it. “Could you hold this? I’ll take the drinks back to the shop.” Aziraphale spoke as he took the carrying tray with three drinks on it.

“Uh, sure.” Crowley blinked, taking the bag from the man’s hand so he could use it to carry the tray. Throwing the coat over his head again, the taller man ventured out with Aziraphale down the street, quickly making their way to a corner store. He glanced up, seeing that the sign read _A.Z. Fell_ above the door, apparently this place has been occupied since 1800 by a Fell, at least he assumed. Then again, it could just be something Aziraphale put there for aesthetics.

He stepped into the shop and was suddenly face-to-face with a woman.

She was tall, young, her dark hair up a bit in a bun, and she wore clothes that made him consider Aziraphale’s own as being modern. “Here.” She took the bag from him and handed him a dark green bath towel.

“How’d you know to bring towels?” Aziraphale asked from near a desk, rubbing at his head with a yellow towel, trying to dry his hair as best as he could.

“I considered it this morning, when a thought came to me.” The woman said, there was a strange energy coming from her. If Crowley was still human, he never would have sensed it, but as an angel? He could tell there was something unnatural to her, magic even.

The bookseller scoffed. “Ah, yes, predictions and the like. What was the thought, Anathema?”

The woman, Anathema, smiled a little as she glanced at Crowley. “’Today there shall be a shower with the crash of pans. Be wary when walking today, for black wings will nearly result in an unexpected swim. Best to bring two towels, one offered his own wing to the other for minor protection.’”

“What?” Crowley finally spoke.

“Ah, yes.” Aziraphale approached, his hair a much curlier mess than before. “Anathema, this is Anthony J. Crowley. Crowley, this is Anathema Device, my assistant here at the bookshop. She’s also a witch who comes from the ancestry of the greatest, most accurate prophet in history, Agnes Nutter.”

“Who?”

Anathema spoke up next as she set the bag of treats on the counter by the hot drinks. “I can predict the future, much like my ancestor. However, my predictions can sometimes be hard to understand, coming up at the strangest of times. Like this morning, when I was finishing up breakfast, this came to me so I grabbed some towels on my way out. Sometimes my predictions don’t have to involve me, they can involve anyone.”

“Such as the other part involving me today.” Aziraphale added on.

She raised an eyebrow before looking at Crowley. The angel was quick to toss Aziraphale’s jacket aside, where it landed perfectly on a coat rack near the door. He straightened out his own dress jacket, smirking. “Your prediction wasn’t wrong, miss. Your friend here almost did take an unexpected swim, until I saved him.”

“You were the cause of it.” The bookseller grumbled, placing a cup in Crowley’s hand before he moved to flip the OPEN sign on the door to CLOSED. “Come, let’s enjoy our nibbles and drinks.”

“Nibbles.” Crowley repeated as he approached the large desk in the shop. Now that he took a moment, he looked around from where he stopped. The shop was large, smelled like old books and ink, with just the slightest hints of chocolate and dust. The books varied greatly in stages of age, from new to ancient. He doubted that there was anything new about most of the furnishing in here, everything looked old, ancient, probably the original woodwork for all these shelves and such.

It was like stepping into the 1800s from how it looked, it was rather… cozy, in a way. Very fitting of a man like Aziraphale Fell.

A chair was offered to him from a different desk near a window, and Crowley took it from Anathema, giving a small bit of thanks as he sat down, sipping his drink. He glanced at her out of the corner of his eye, suddenly realizing that the two of them were alone. “Yessss?” He hissed out quizzically.

“Black wings, huh?” She asked, there was a look in her eyes, as if she knew something.

“He got startled by a duck.”

“Right.” Anathema was not convinced and that actually sent a shiver up the redhead’s back. As a witch, how well could she sense non-human beings? And where did his human go?!

He heard a ding from another room, and Aziraphale made himself known again, coming out of a side room with a white coffee mug, the handle appeared to be angel wings. Did he pour his cocoa in that and then warmed it up? Crowley snorted, before letting out a bark of a laugh. “Oh, the irony of using that.” He gestured to the cup.

Aziraphale looked at the cup before pouting, looking stubborn and a bit embarrassed. “There is nothing wrong with using my favorite cup to enjoy a treat from! I understand that there is something ironic about using it now, but shush, none of this.” He swatted a hand at the still laughing celestial man.

The witch of the trio smiled as she snatched out a treat from the bag before taking her own coffee. “Well, now that you’re back, I’ll be returning home. See you in the morning, Aziraphale. And thank you for the treat.”

“Oh, it was my pleasure!” Aziraphale replied before seeing her out, offering her the use of an umbrella from the basket he kept near his door. It was in thanks for the towels, which he would return to her tomorrow, clean and dry.

After she departed into the rain, he locked the door and turned to Crowley, who was already eating a biscuit from the bag. “Your friend seems nice.” He commented with food in his mouth.

“She’s a dear.” The shorter of the two spoke as he moved around the desk, picking up his cup and treats. “Come, let’s get you upstairs and into warmer clothing, can’t have you getting sick now, can we?”

Crowley wanted to inform him that he couldn’t really get sick from the rain and wet clothing, nor did he need to really get warmer clothes in the first place, he could just use a miracle to fix this. But curiosity got the best of him and he followed Aziraphale up a spiraling staircase to a second floor, where more books were kept.

They walked to a door that Aziraphale unlocked and ushered him through. A small flight of steps took them up into a flat above the shop. It was just as old timey as the shop, with some modern adjustments. The kitchen had some modern appliances, or at least ones that looked like they came from the seventies.

The living room had several more bookshelves, though he did see some VHS tapes and DVDs to go with the television that was probably from twenty years ago. The damn thing was still thick! He swore you only saw those in hotels and schools nowadays.

Setting down his snack, Aziraphale told Crowley to stay put as he went to get him a change of clothing. Again, Crowley didn’t say a word as he quietly waited. Really, he could just use magic, but Aziraphale seemed like the sort of guy who would rather just do the normal thing, so he wasn’t gonna throw off the groove of things.

The human returned with a small pile of clothing in his hands. “I’m afraid you and I are of two very different body types, but I am sure these clothes will do for the night, yes? The bathroom is down the hall, you can’t miss it. When you’re done, just give me your wet clothes and I’ll wash and dry them for you.”

“Uhh… cool, thanks.” Crowley took the pile of clothes and went down a hall. He wasn’t kidding when he said you couldn’t miss the bathroom, there was a little W.C. sign nailed to it, looked vintage like the rest of the place.

The bathroom was rather nice for someone who lived alone, rather large and spacious, with a huge tub. Crowley wanted to take a bath so badly, you don’t need them in Heaven, you just snap your fingers and you’re completely refreshed!

But now that he’s back on Earth…

“Hey Aziraphale?” He called out, poking his head out the door. “Mind if I use the tub? I’m freezing.” Which wasn’t a lie, he was, and it didn’t help that his angelic imperfections were snake-based.

“Oh, that’s fine, go right ahead.” Aziraphale’s voice came from another room, possibly a bedroom.

“Cool, yeah, thanks.” He replied and proceeded to get undressed and right into that big, beautiful bath. He grabbed his phone as he did, looking at the sleek, metallic case, it was heavenly inspired, as were all phones for those who bothered to use them.

Crowley was aware that Michael used one, since she tended to be the one to give him updates when he was Upstairs, and it seems to be the same here. He looked to see that he had a message from her.

MICHAEL: How did your arrival go? Have you found your human?

CROWLEY: went well enough falling a million light years to land in a bush

CROWLEY: found him at his place now

MICHAEL: At his place? Are you hiding in his home?

CROWLEY: he invited me

There was a pause, he could see that she was typing. He smirked a bit as he leaned back, enjoying the hot water around him and the tiny bit of a bath oil he included, smelled good, some kind of flower combo.

MICHAEL: Don’t screw this up, you only get one first human.

CROWLEY: gotcha

With that, he ignored his message app and went to play around on the rest of his phone, happy to finally get some damn Earth sites to check out again. So, let’s see what stupidity the Earth has to offer.

\--

The concept of an angel being in his bathroom seemed more impactful to Aziraphale’s frazzled mind than seeing him in the park with wings. The whole thing about angels being real and one now being his guardian hadn’t really hit him at full force until after he got himself into clean, dry clothing.

Had his sudden urge for a walk to St. James Park been caused by the man who was relaxing in his bathtub, somehow playing music from in there?

He sat on his couch, nibbling on a treat as he waited for the other to get out. He had a million and one questions for him, to help ease his poor mind. But Aziraphale was patient, as much as he wanted to just barge in, he wasn’t stupid and rude like that. Still, the longer he waited, the more questions formed.

Crowley was strange, he looked nothing like an angel, or at least from the texts in the collection. Aziraphale was well taught in the knowledge that angels of low ranks could appear in a human form, but angels were not humans, they were beings with forms that humans could never truly understand. Wings, eyes, fire, multiple heads and the like, they were chaotic, horrific, beautiful, a sight to behold.

Crowley was… lanky, tall, walked almost like a snake would with legs. He dressed like he stepped out of an era that Aziraphale was not familiar with, and his hair looked like copper and fire all at once. He stood out like a sore thumb with those shades, did he want to stand out? Almost seems like he wanted to, he looked like someone who listened to punk and rock music and would make a scene if he could.

And honestly? Aziraphale found that a bit more fascinating than the idea of him being an angel. Angels were beings that did God’s work, that were meant to be righteous and good, strong and demanding, commanding, protectors and fighters, killers and saints.

The man in the bathroom, singing away as if the bookseller was not in the building, was more of a guy you knew from the bar, or had met in a park for a bit of a chat as you both fed the ducks together. He looked like someone who would say something dumb to catch your attention, get a laugh from you, offer you a ride and maybe a treat on him, if he liked you enough.

The angel looked like someone who took joy in annoying others, gluing coins to the ground and inconveniencing others through silly means, like somehow knocking out mobile phone services. Yet, at the same time, he also seemed like he’d be willing to help you out with a problem, though he’d complain at the same time to keep up an image he made for himself.

Aziraphale had always been told he was good at reading people, just like his books. Maybe he was reading too much into Crowley, yes? Assuming things about a man he had only known for maybe an hour?

He sighed, closing his eyes, leaning back into the couch. His head was starting to hurt from thinking, he didn’t need this.

“Did you fall asleep?”

The man nearly screamed, jolting as he turned to see Crowley standing there, at the end of the couch. He wore an old shirt of Aziraphale’s, and sweatpants that didn’t quite fit, they seemed too baggy, yet were a bit short on a guy who was mostly leg. In his arms were the wet clothes. “Got a washer?”

“R-right, yes.” Aziraphale got up, taking the pile of damp clothes as he made his way to a small room off from the bathroom to start up the washer.

When he had gotten things going, he returned to the living room, finding Crowley looking over his bookshelves. “Sure got a lot of biblical texts.” He commented, eyes still behind shades, focused on an old textbook of his grandfather’s.

“Yes,” Aziraphale began, watching carefully, “my family studied the Bible and religious texts.”

“Explains your name. Aziraphale, yes? From a very old, obscure scroll, not well known. About the supposed angel who watched over the eastern gate of Eden. He encountered the snake that told Eve to eat the fruit, got the snake in trouble and then himself for not seeing what happened.”

“Yes…” The human blinked. “How did you know that? My great, great, great grandfather studied that text and named his son after the angel. That scroll is very old and so obscure most scholars doubt it exists.”

It does exist, it’s just kept in a special storage in the shop. Aziraphale has never bothered to look into it, lest he damage it.

“Ah, I read a lot of shit when I was Upstairs. I’d take time off work to study things, learn about Heaven and Hell, all that celestial and damned bull just to see what was up with all that. Apparently, there’s a lot of things religious texts got right and _a lot_ that they got wrong.”

He turned away from the shelf, smirking a bit, seemed to be his way of smiling. “That angel was real, at least according to old stuff I found in the library of Heaven, but I doubt I’d be able to point him out in a crowd. Too many angels, over ten million from what Gab’s told me.”

“Gabriel? Archangel Gabriel?”

“Yep! And I hate the guy with a passion! He’s such a kiss-up to God, always right up Her ass about things, total brown noser, teacher’s pet, ya know?”

Aziraphale blinked. “Her? God is a woman?”

“Eeeehhh…” Crowley shook his hand in a ‘kinda’ way. “Yes, no, kinda, not really. Gender doesn’t fully apply to beings like God, Satan, angels, and demons. I mean, a lot of them have pronouns they use, like I use he,” though sometimes not always but that was his business and not this guy’s, “and Michael uses she, while God appears differently for all of us. For example, to me, God appears as a woman, but to Gabriel, He’s a man. It’s just how things work.”

The blond sat down on the couch, listening with wide eyes and an intense fascination. So, Crowley continued, telling Aziraphale about Heaven and Hell.

They got take-out from a Chinese place on the same block, good stuff too, oh, how Crowley missed food even if he didn’t really eat much when he was human. As they ate, he explained how Heaven was like a super clean, organized office building. At least in the area angels worked, too sterile and boring, bland, so white and clean that you could eat off the floor, if you even bothered to eat.

Down below, Hell was like the basement of said office building. Filthy, dark, crowded and cramped. At least for the demons. It basically sucked, it was also super boring from what Crowley knew, much like Heaven, except it was like Heaven if the Upper was thrown in a cesspool.

Crowley explained angels and demons, they typically just appeared human-like, even in their respective realms because it was easier and an ‘aesthetic’ for most of them. He told the curious human how demons had strange imperfections on them that showed what they really were. Many had animals mutated to them, and they smelled funny. Aziraphale had yet to meet a demon, but this is what a few of the lower-rank angels have told him, and honestly? He could believe it.

Angels had ‘halos’, in a sense, as gold markings on their skin. They weren’t always on their faces, though many did have them, they could have them on other places on them. For example, Crowley pulled up a pantleg, showing the strange ‘scars’ that appeared as scales, scattered about on the back of his legs. Those were his, in the right light, they looked golden.

From there, he explained where human souls go. It was sort of a gray area for Crowley, he had never seen past the Pearly Gates where souls went, but from what he knew, it was a much nicer version of Earth. Hell was a way shittier version, really dirty too, and Purgatory was Earth if it was boring.

“So,” Aziraphale spoke as he set aside his empty container of fried rice and shrimp, “what sort of angel are you? Are Guardian Angels a class of their own? Like Seraphim and Thrones?”

The redhead shrugged. “Kinda? Yeah? I mean, we’re part of the lowest rank angels, the basics. The kind that tend to just do the grunt work in Heaven. We’re the interns of the Upper, but sometimes we get good jobs, like being a Guardian. You get better privileges and can go to Earth.”

Aziraphale nodded quietly, taking all of this in before sighing. “My ancestors would be eating this up like a starving man if they knew the truth. Am I allowed to reveal any of this to anyone?”

“I mean, you can, but who the hell is gonna believe you?”

“Ah, good point. I am sure Anathema would believe us, she is a witch after all.”

“Hm.” Crowley nodded, glancing around the apartment. “You’ve got any booze?”

“Angels drink?”

“This one does.” He stood up and ventured into the kitchen with a swagger that reminded the blond of a snake. Aziraphale wanted to tell Crowley that it was a bit rude to rifle through someone’s stuff, but the man grew a massive grin on his face when he pulled out a bottle from a cabinet. “Let’s get shitfaced!”

Everything Aziraphale previously knew about angels was completely thrown out the window with that one statement.

\--

Anathema looked over the three hundred plus year old book in front of her as she quietly sipped her drink, ignoring the sounds of her boyfriend in the other room as he spoke to his mother. She was looking for a specific prophesy that Agnes had noted in her book, something that was very important for today.

**Prophesy 601:**

**Upon Earth, thou will find oneself encountering a being beyond this world who had once been part of it. His tongue is as sharp as his form, but his heart is as soft as the one he shall make his life’s purpose. They are both fools who will need a push in the right direction of bliss. Work with them, do not let them be blind and lost in their own minds, it will happen if you do not dip your fingers into the waters.**

The young woman gave a nod, gently closing the book. “Alright, Agnes, let’s see what will come of this one, you haven’t been wrong yet.”

TBC

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I don’t know if there is a Prophesy 601, but I just made it up for the sake of this story (and no, I am not writing in that 1600s talk, I doubt I can write it correctly, so this is basically Anathema’s mental translation).
> 
> Heaven and Hell is full of a lot of headcanons, haha, but also stuff I’ve gathered from the show, book, and even the commentary for the show.
> 
> Next chapter: Crowley and Aziraphale get drunk, talk about dolphins and what would happen if the world was ever to end, before realizing that Crowley doesn’t have a place to stay. So far, day one of this case is going well for the angel.
> 
> Thanks for reading! Please comment and kudos!


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Summery: Crowley and Aziraphale have a long conversation while being three sheets to the wind, next morning starts Crowley’s first day being a Guardian Angel and he learns the habits of his human. At the same time, a certain witch figures him out without any trouble.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Are you all ready for me trying to rewrite the bookshop conversation from the book with only an angel and a human drunk this time?
> 
> Well, it’s happening.
> 
> Apologies to Neil and Terry, I am tweaking your infamous bookshop scene because I love it so much and how could I not include it in this story?
> 
> On with the fic!

Crowley missed a good glass of wine, and Aziraphale is helping him make up for this.

He had only been on Earth for about seven or so hours, and he and the human had been drinking solidly for three of them. Currently, they had somehow gone from talking about the better preferences for Shakespearian comedies or dramas to somehow discussing what Crowley knew of the End of Days, if it were to ever happen in Aziraphale’s lifetime.

The table in front of the two was covered in bottles, along with a knocked over container of half-finished fried rice with chicken and no carrots.

“The point is,” said Crowley, drunk, “the point is. The point is.” He tried to focus on Aziraphale.

“The point _is_ ,” he tried to think of a point, wasn’t working well for him at the current moment. “The point I’m trying to make is the dolphins! That’s my point.”

“Kind of fish.” Aziraphale mumbled, trying to focus, wasn’t working well.

“Nonononono.” The angel shook his finger. “’S mammal. Your actual mammal. Difference is…” Crowley waded through the swamp of his mind, trying to remember the difference. “Difference is… they, uh…”

“Mate out of water?” Aziraphale volunteered, not sounding confident on that at all. In his drunken state, he couldn’t even remember what a dolphin did. Though he was starting to remember the lyrics to _Thanks for All the Fish_ from the movie adaptation of Hitchhiker’s.

Crowley’s brow furrowed. “Don’t think so. Pretty sure that’s not it. Something about their young, whatever.” He pulled himself together enough to continue. “The point is. The _point_ is. Their brains.”

He reached for a bottle of wine, hating that he found an empty one. “What about their brains?” Asked the blond across the table from him.

“Big brains. That’s my point. Size of… size of. Size of damn big brains. And then there’s the whales! Brain city, take it from me. Whole damn sea full of brains!”

Aziraphale was quiet for a moment, lost in thought as he sunk in his seat as deep as he could go without slipping out of it. Then he spoke as he stared moodily at his glass. “Kraken.”

Crowley gave him a long, cool look of someone who has just had a girder dropped in front of his train of thought. “Uh?”

“Great, big bugger.” Said Aziraphale as he tried to keep himself from drifting asleep in a drunken haze. “Sleepeth beneath the thunders of the upper deep. Under loads of huge and unnumbered polypol- polipo… bloody great seaweeds, you know. Supposed to rise to the surface right at the end, when the sea boils.”

“Yeah?”

“Fact.”

The angel wasn’t gonna disagree with that, sounded interesting for the kraken to be real. “There you are then. Whole sea bubbling, poor old dolphins so much seafood gumbo, no one giving a damn. Same with gorillas. Whoops, they say, sky gone all red, stars crashing to ground, what they putting in bananas these days? And then-”

“They make nests, you know, gorillas.” The bookseller interrupted as he tried to pour himself another drink, getting it right on the third attempt.

Crowley blinked slowly, trying to comprehend this. “Nah.” He didn’t believe it.

“God’s truth. Saw a film. Nests.”

“That’s birds!” Crowley exclaimed, unable to believe that anything other than a bird could make a nest in this state of mind.

“Nests.” Insisted Aziraphale, looking rather confident in this.

Crowley decided not to argue the point, moving along. “There you are then,” he said, “all creatures great and smoke. Small. Great and small. Lot of them with brains. And then, bazamm.”

“Whose fault is that? Your lot or the other lot?” Aziraphale asked, raising an eyebrow. “Great Plan, right? Who has that? Gotta be both sides, or something, talk of the Bible fanatics, God’s plan, yet the devil’s in the details. So… Heaven, Hell, both?”

“Both…? I think. Think this might be the other lot.” He set his glass down on the table with a thump. “They don’t have to say yes. That’s the ineffable bit, right?” What were ‘they’, he couldn’t even remember.

“Ineffable…” The human mumbled, repeating it a few more times, seeming to like the idea that it is the bit, yes.

“Heaven’s side made it up!” Crowley continued onward. “Got to keep testing people, but not to destruction.”

“Alright, alright.” Aziraphale waved his hand a little. “I don’t like the concept of Armageddon anymore than you do, but… what can you do, right? I mean… uh… you’re an angel? Can’t disod- disoy- not do what you’re told. Yes? Heaven gotta do what Heaven gotta do?”

Crowley stared, leaning forward slowly, a thought on his mind. “There’s no theaters in Heaven. And very few films.”

Aziraphale’s eyes widened and he looked rather annoyed a moment later. “Don’t you try to tempt me. You are an angel; you do not tempt me with lies. Heaven is a paradise, ‘s in all the books and such from people who aren’t being pretentious twats.”

“Not lying. Just you think about it,” Crowley spoke relentlessly. “You know what eternity is? You know what eternity is? I mean, _d’you know what eternity is?_ There’s this big mountain, see, a mile high, at the end of the universe, and once every thousand years there’s this little bird-”

“What little bird?”

“This little bird I’m talking about. And every thousand years-”

“The same bird every thousand years?”

Crowley hesitated. “Yeah.”

“Bloody ancient bird, then.” Aziraphale mumbled, sipping at his wine.

The angel rolled his eyes, wanting to continue his story. “Okay. And every thousand years this bird flies-”

“Limps.”

“- _Flies!_ All the way to this mountain and sharpens it’s beak.”

“Now hold on, you can’t do that. Between here and the end of the universe there’s a load of…” Aziraphale waved a hand expansively, if a little unsteadily. “Loads of bugger all, dear boy.”

Crowley continued on, saying that it gets there anyway, to which Aziraphale fought back by asking how. This resulted in a brief argument over the bird using a spaceship, and that if it takes a thousand years to get to the mountain, then the bird’s descendants must perform the task at hand! Aziraphale paused, suddenly it occurred to him that last part. “What have they got to do?”

“Sharpen its beak on the mountain.” Crowley explained. “And then it flies back-”

“In the spaceship.” Aziraphale smirked around the rim of his glass of wine at the face the angel made at his interruption.

“And after a thousand years,” Crowley continued as if he hadn’t just heard that, “it goes back and does it all over again.”

There was a moment of drunken silence, which was broken by the mumbled comment of ‘seems a lot of effort to sharpen a beak’ from the blond man. Crowley groaned and set aside his wine glass, leaning forward once more as he stared directly at Aziraphale from behind dark shades. “Listen, the point is that when the bird has worn the mountain down to nothing, right, then…”

Aziraphale opened his mouth. The redhead just knew he was going to make some point about the relative hardness of birds’ beaks and the granite mountains, and plunged on quickly.

“Then you still won’t have finished watching The Sound of Music!”

The blond froze on the spot, his eyes wide, a look of horror began to cross his face. Crowley continued, pointing a finger at him, relentless with his next words. “And you’ll _enjoy_ it, you really will.”

“My dear boy…”

“You won’t have a choice.”

“Listen-”

“Heaven has no tastes!”

“Now-”

“And not a single sushi restaurant.”

The look of horror was now partnered with a look of pain on the human’s suddenly very serious face. He set aside his half-finished wine glass as he sat himself up straighter. “I can’t cope with this while ‘m drunk, I need to sober up.”

“Hold on,” the other waved a hand, “I can fix that, I need to as well.” Sitting up straighter, Crowley winced, fingers clenching as he began to miracle the wine from his and Aziraphale’s bodies, leaving the other man in shock as he felt himself sober up.

He watched as the wine returned to the bottles, like they had never been drunk by these two in three hours. His eyes were wide as he looked over at the angel who was rubbing at his forehead. “How… how did you…?”

“Miracles, angel…” Crowley groaned as he stood up, stretching. “We’ve got powers to do lots of things. Never done this before, but I knew it was something my lot can do, not fun, but hey, we’re sober now.”

Aziraphale just numbly nodded. “Right, yes.” He completely forgot the other was an angel, but right now, he was gonna get himself ready for bed, he had work in the morning. He stopped as he stood up, looking at the angel. “Do you have somewhere to go tonight? I don’t… I mean, I’m not kicking you out, I’m rather curious if you have a place to stay.”

Crowley seemed to blink behind his shades. “I don’t, actually. I mean, I’ve got my office in Heaven, but I gotta stay here on Earth with you.”

Too bad he probably didn’t have his flat anymore, nice place, the building’s owner let him stylize it to his exact aesthetics and the like. He really missed it, and his plants, hope his ‘last will and testaments’ got through to the person he left them with, that was an ordeal and a half.

“So you don’t have anywhere to stay?” Aziraphale asked, getting a shake of the head from his guest. “Well then, it looks like you can use the guest room.”

Crowley tensed up. “W-what? Nah, no, no need for that. I don’t really need to sleep-”

“You’re my guest!” Aziraphale smiled, taking his hand suddenly. He missed the shudder from Crowley as he walked him down the hall to a closed door. Opening it up, Crowley looked into a room that was simple in appearance yet felt like he stepped into some room you’d see in a cottage or something. A single bed, dresser, even a large dressing cabinet instead of a closet. And a bookshelf full of books, of course.

“This is the guest room, isn’t used too often, but the sheets are clean. If you need anything, I’m down the hall, I’ll even keep my door cracked so you can come in. I need to head to bed, I’ve got work tomorrow, one of my early shift days so I can close earlier in the evening.” Aziraphale smiled once more, releasing his hand. “Good night, Crowley.”

“Uh… night?” Crowley replied before stepping into the room, closing the door behind himself. He looked around the room before getting on the bed, removing his shades. “Well… can’t say I saw this coming.”

He had honestly expected himself to go find a hotel or whatever, didn’t know if Aziraphale was up for guests, but he seems like the sort that would offer you a place to stay for the night if you seemed trustworthy enough. He smiled a bit to himself, rather giddy about this, before he got under the sheets.

“Oh sleep, how I’ve missed you.” He was out like a light in a minute.

\--

Aziraphale, however, was still awake as he quietly cleaned up his living room. He knew he needed to go to bed, but his mind was a scrambled television of thoughts, caught between trying to show one channel but somehow showing things for channels further ahead of what he wanted it to be on.

He corked a bottle of wine before letting out a sigh. A Guardian Angel, huh? Was he that much of a disaster that Heaven had to send him an angel to get himself sorted out? He understood that the human mind wasn’t always going to go back to things being normal after something that has happened, but it seemed rather silly that his ‘progress’ over the past year wasn’t good enough.

This was the most he’s drank in over a year, at least this was done for more happier reasons instead of muddying up his mind to ignore that terrible ache he felt whenever something triggered the absent memories. He still couldn’t remember what it was that turned his world upside down, he had successfully buried that memory deep into the recesses of his soul and mind, now he couldn’t remember where he had buried them.

Would Crowley dig them up? Make him face his troubles instead of hiding from them with work and dusty, old books?

Could an angel do what Anathema or a therapist couldn’t do?

Possible, considering that Crowley said he could perform miracles, and this honestly felt like it needed a miracle to work. But he didn’t want to worry about this right now, he really didn’t like to dwell on the darkness that covered his thoughts like this. Instead, he decided to think about the angel who was in his guest room, his old room before he inherited the bookshop.

Crowley was nothing like an angel, yet that made Aziraphale appreciate him as his Guardian Angel. He didn’t come down with a show of lights, no ‘do not be afraid’, or speaking of scriptures. No, he had startled the willies out of Aziraphale and then got drunk with him and called him out on his hatred of the Sound of Music, which Aziraphale really wished he hadn’t ranted about earlier in their drunken conversation.

Somehow they had gotten into the talk of music, something Crowley mysteriously had a lot of knowledge on for an angel, while Aziraphale mentioned he rather liked musicals but loathed the classic that was the Sound of Music with a burning passion that had the angel rather curious. Seeing it one too many times in theaters as a child by well-meaning, but dimwitted family members had made Aziraphale bitter towards the film.

And Crowley would never let him live it down, it seems.

He thought over the last part of the drunken talk, then stopped as he put away the bottles of wine.

“Did he call me ‘angel’?”

\--

Sleep is something that Crowley greatly appreciated when he was a human, he never missed a chance to crash somewhere. Whether it was on a bed, a couch, in the back of his Bentley, on his friends’ couches and beds, even on the kitchen floor a few times, he was always up for sleeping.

Waking up, however, was a totally different story.

He opened an eye when he heard something, it sounded like music. He strained to hear it, faint, but familiar. Was that… yep, that’s Queen, he knew Freddie’s lyrical voice anywhere, sounded like _Somebody to Love_. With a groan, he rolled himself over and yelped as he landed on the floor. Yep, waking up sucked, even to good music.

With a yawn that looked more snake-like than a human’s should be, he came out of the room, the music was louder, and he smelled good things in the air. He even stuck out his tongue to get a better scent, before shuffling to the kitchen.

There was Aziraphale in the kitchen, a radio was on that looked like it was from the sixties, playing some station. Queen finished, now it was someone chatting about the weather, going to be a bit more rain today it seems.

The bookseller was at the stove, gently poking at something in a pan with a spatula. From the egg shells on the counter, and the chopped up meats and peppers, looks like the other made omelets. Hazel-blue eyes looked at the sleepy celestial and Aziraphale smiled. “Good morning, you can go back to sleep if you’d like, it’s still rather early.”

“Nnnn…” Crowley replied as he walked past him, giving him a pat on the shoulder, before grabbing at the tea kettle. “Coffee…?”

“The coffee maker is ready to go, just flip the switch on the side.”

Crowley looked to see a single-cup coffee maker, looked like it wasn’t used off. Probably for guests, Aziraphale clearly looked like someone who didn’t drink it much, unless if it was more flavored creamer than coffee. He poked at the switch, hearing it hiss and start to make him a cup of coffee. “You’re in a good mood.”

“Oh, well, I checked my messages this morning,” The bookseller gestured to the flip phone (really? A flip phone in this day and age? This looked to be from the early 2000s!). “Someone wishes to do a trade with me over a particular book I’ve had my eye on for a while, been excited about it for the past hour.”

Crowley, even in his groggy state, was quick to take note of this.

Things that can cheer up Aziraphale:

  1. A strong wine from a vintage year
  2. Rare books
  3. Classical music or modern songs done in a classical style
  4. Discussions on history and mythology, religion as well if you know the right subjects to bring up



These were things that he had noted last night from their conversation, now to add ‘good deals for books’. “Beautiful, so, what’s the book?”

“It’s a manuscript from the fourteenth century, about King Arthur’s court, a variation that was considered rather crude and risqué.”

Crowley snorted loudly. “Sounds like fun, too bad it’s from the fourteenth century.”

“Oh?” Aziraphale asked, setting an omelet down on a plate before putting an egg mix into the pan. “Why is that?”

“It was a shitty century, boring as all get out! Nothing great about it!”

“Lots of things happened during it, my dear.”

“Lots of boring things, angel.”

Aziraphale suddenly whipped around, staring at him. “You did it again!”

The angel cocked an eyebrow. “Did what?” He asked as he got his cup of coffee, taking a sip.

“You called me ‘angel’. Excuse me, but aren’t you the angel around here?”

He did not like the smirk that came to the taller man’s face. “I may be an angel, but wouldn’t it be more fitting to call you that? Considering your name, and your collection of religious texts? If anyone should be a heavenly being, it’s you.”

Aziraphale was flushed in the face, trying to figure out what to say, before pushing the plate towards him. “Eat your breakfast, you’re going to be helping me around the shop today, so you’ll need the energy.”

Crowley wanted to tell him that he really didn’t eat, but… how could he say no to this guy? He made him breakfast, how sweet. And coffee too, man, why didn’t anyone want to take this mission? This guy’s a saint!

Taking the plate and his cup, Crowley moved to the small table in the kitchen and sat down, quietly digging into his food. He observed Aziraphale as he worked on preparing his own breakfast, before the blond suddenly spoke. “So, what do miracles do?”

“Oh, just about anything.” Crowley shrugged. “There are limitations, obviously. Can’t have everything, you know? But I can use them for a lot of things, like this.”

A snap of his fingers, and Aziraphale saw that Crowley was no longer in his borrowed clothing, he was in an outfit much like the one that the bookseller had finished washing last night before bed. There were some differences, but still.

“That’s… impressive.” He blinked; a bit stunned.

“It’s a simple one, but it’s fun.” Crowley smiled before returning to his food.

“Can… miracles fix someone?” Aziraphale asked quietly as he returned to cooking, avoiding eye contact.

Crowley paused and watched him carefully. “Anything can become a miracle, angel. We’ll just have to see, won’t we?”

He got a distant smile from the blond and the subject was dropped for a bit. Aziraphale finished preparing his food, grabbing up a plate and a cup of tea for himself before he sat across from Crowley. He glanced up at the other, before his eyes widened. “Y-Your eyes…”

Crowley instantly tensed up. He wasn’t wearing his shades. “What about them?” He asked, trying to keep calm. His eyes were a problem for him, lots of the higher ranked angels didn’t like his snake features, rare for an angel to pick up features from creatures that have black marks by their names in Heaven’s good books. Snakes are still in trouble, due to the stuff with Eden, and Crowley got the short end of the stick when he was given his marks to show he isn’t a natural angel.

He had been told to keep his eyes covered, makes people less creeped out by him, and his self-conscious nature, even in Heaven, was too much for him.

“They’re amazing!”

Okay, that’s a new reaction. “Huh?”

“I had no idea you had eyes like that! They look reptilian! Snake, yes? You seem to carry the aesthetic with you in your look, don’t act like I didn’t see the belt and boots, or your stylish tattoo! Do all angels have such features?”

“I… uhh… no, I mean, some of us lower ones have animal-like features, just little things. And some of the higher ups can have animal heads, ever seen a Principality? Animal head city.”

“Brilliant!” Aziraphale looked at him with pure interest of someone who was legit fascinated, not someone who was enjoying a freak show or the like. “Do you have other snake-like qualities? I know you showed me those markings last night, they look like scales!”

“My sense of taste and smell is better, uhh… I feel vibrations easier; I can become a snake?”

The conversation was no longer tense like before, but filled with curious questions that Crowley was happy to answer.

Crowley felt a sense of joy from his human client, which the angel took as a good sign. So far so good, just had to keep giving this man more joy, and all would be well.

However, he could sense it, lost behind the other emotions, a small, constant sense of sadness, guilt, dread, and self-loathing that Aziraphale kept buried deep within himself that seemed to pulse every so often.

Best to keep an eye on that.

\--

Anathema had arrived at the shop before Aziraphale walked down the stairs into it, but this was normal. She tended to be the one to open while he took his time. She never felt bothered by it, she was an earlier riser anyway and knew he had rituals to perform to make himself look like a gent from an era long since passed.

She was setting aside some books when she heard his footsteps, along with a second set. Glancing at the stairs, she saw her boss and the stranger from yesterday. “Good morning, Aziraphale. Mr. Crowley.” She greeted them.

“Ah, good morning, Anathema!” Aziraphale replied, chipper. “I got a response from Mr. Egbert, going to discuss the trade and such with him in my office. Let me know if I’m needed. Oh,” he turned to Crowley before looking back at her, “could you show him the ropes while I’m doing this? Thank you!”

“Yeah, I can do that.” She replied, watching the man in creams and tans enter into his little office, closing the door behind him. She then spun and looked right at the confused stranger on the stairs still. “Mr. Crowley.”

“Book girl.” He replied as he finished making his way down, moving to stand before her, trying to use his height to intimidate her, but it wasn’t working at all. She found it rather amusing, actually.

“Black wings, eh?” She smirked, seeing his expression faulter. “So, how do you know him?”

“I’m working with him on a project.” He was ignoring her first question;

she knew he was on edge that she’d bring it back up.

Anathema crossed her arms, looking at him. “I know you’re not human.” Ah screw it, let’s get right to the point. “Your aura is very much not human, even if there is still something there at the core.”

He frowned deeply, glaring behind his shades. “Look, book girl, don’t be spouting any of that around. Can’t have the world know I’m an angel.”

“An angel with black wings.”

“Yes, and your point?”

“What do you want with Aziraphale?”

There was a tension from her that she knew he could sense. She wanted him to, Aziraphale was a dear friend of hers and she’s been worried about him for a while, she didn’t want this guy causing him more trouble. Angel or not.

He turned his head to the closed door before his attention was on her once more. “I’m his Guardian Angel, I’m here to keep him happy and to help him with his problems. He is aware of who and what I am. I will do everything in my power to keep him safe, I don’t want anything to happen to him. So, don’t worry your witchy head about it.” He poked her in the shoulder, frowning at her.

Anathema pushed his hand away. “How can I trust you on that?”

“Darling!” He laughed, smirking. “You can always trust an angel!”

She doubted that. “You’re terrible at being an angel.”

Crowley snorted loudly. “Says you, Device. Anyway, show me the ropes of this shop! If I’m gonna be here on Earth, I might as well make myself useful for angel in anyway I can!” He spoke as he stepped around her and towards a shelf full of books on outdated maps.

Anathema watched him, looking at the large, old book she had on her work desk. “Oh Agnes, what do we do about these guys?” She whispered before rushing over to Crowley, who nearly knocked over a stack of old books.

TBC

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the wait, was busy with work and such. Also, I’ve been writing stuff with Nanny and Brother Francis on tumblr, might post them up here at some point.
> 
> Next chapter: Crowley begins his work of observing Aziraphale, taking lots of notes and the like, trying to figure out how to crack this tartan-wearing puzzle. And wondering if maybe he can take him somewhere nice.
> 
> Thanks for reading! Please comment and kudos!


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Anthony J. Crowley is prepared for his first real day of working with Aziraphale Fell. Books, sushi, annoying customers, what else will Crowley learn about this mysterious man?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter is gonna basically be a bit more character development and Crowley observing the day-to-day activities of his human. So, it’s filler, but we’ll learn more about Crowley and Aziraphale as we go along.
> 
> On with the fic!

Anathema had shown Crowley around the shop, explaining which section was which, what area got cleaned on what day, things like that. Then she explained to him how to frighten off customers. To answer Crowley’s unasked question, though clearly asked by his facial expression alone, she explained that Aziraphale hated to sell books.

“He runs a bookstore, yet he refuses to sell books.” Crowley deadpanned as the witchy girl shrugged.

“His collection means the world to him, and if he is able to, he’ll find copies of books just to sell those to nosy customers.”

“Then how the hell does he make money?” The angel frowned, glancing around the shop. “The amount of books in this collection alone has to be worth a fortune!”

She chuckled a bit. “Oh, it’s worth so much, however he gets money from what he is willing to sell and when he rents books. However, he is very uppity about that too! If you’re to rent from him, you had better return it in the same condition you got it in! He’ll know if the book has been damaged, he’s got a very keen eye, knows this collection like the back of his hand!”

Crowley watched as she moved a book on a shelf to another spot, a bit of a ways away. “When he comes out, he’s gonna know this was misplaced and you’ll see how he is about all of these books.”

He didn’t doubt Anathema’s words, but he really did want to see Aziraphale’s reaction. After the tour around the shop and listening to Anathema’s instructions on how to dust and tidy up the place, he was given a pair of handling gloves for delicate artifacts and the like. “Best of luck, I’ll be going over filing at my desk.” She winked and made her way to her desk, leaving Crowley alone with the gloves.

With a snap of his fingers, a duster appeared on the shelf next to him and he got set to dust around the back wall, as it was the area of the day. From what the young lady has said, these books were a rare find of infamous stories and books. Crowley was rather curious of this; he could see behind a glass case a set of books that clearly looked to be bound in a leather that was not of a farm animal.

“Hell’s teeth, angel, didn’t think you’d go for the macabre.” He smirked as he gently dusted around a set of books that were centered on witchcraft. “Hey book girl! Any of your ancestors write these ones!” He shouted, pointing at the shelf.

“Shut up.” She happily replied from her seat, smiling at him.

He barked a laugh and went back to being nosy. He could see signs that clearly listed this area was not for sale, that renting was very selective. Makes sense, considering the content, and how old some of these books were and holy shit, was that a grand grimoire? Nice, Crowley when he had been alive would have loved to have that, just to rub it in his old friends’ faces.

A bitter taste crossed his tongue at the thought of them and he decided not to dwell on that as he distracted himself a little with seeing something labeled as _The Infamous Bibles_ , written in a handwriting that was clearly from a different century.

Crowley, when human, wasn’t one for much reading. Oh yes, he did have his favorites, like _Cain and Able_ , some of Stephen King’s works, Shakespear’s comedies, some biographies about some of his favorite singers, a few books on DaVinci, but that was about it in his personal collection. Oh, and, of course, his amazing collection of all of the James Bond books, well read and loved, along with a signed copy of _Chitty Chitty Bang Bang_ he found in a thrift store. After his death, he found himself totally bored and would visit Heaven’s collection of books.

However, as to be expected, Heaven’s collection was basically nothing but religious texts. Not that it was such a bad thing, but he learned quickly that a lot of the books were there because angels are very into themselves to the point of only reading Abrahamic texts simply to see if they’re mentioned.

But that didn’t stop Crowley from spending hours going over as many things he could read. And he was very aware of this collection cause they were the most fun to read.

Oh, there’s the Unrighteous Bible, that one was hilarious! The Wicked Bible, oh, that’s a straight up classic! ‘Thou shall commit adultery’, apparently that had Heaven in a frenzy and Hell has never let them live it down.

“Oh?” Crowley’s eyes widened behind his shades as he saw a very old, very rare one that he had only gotten the chance to read once in Heaven before he was kicked out of the library for laughing too hard and for ditching work.

Carefully, with gloved hands, he removed it from the shelf and placed it on top to look at the cover. Ah, yes, the Bugger Alle This Bible! A holy grail of bibles, nearly all copies of it were destroyed for the contents of it that were added to Genesis, along with a message that basically gave it the title it goes by that was found in the book of Ezekiel. And it seems that Aziraphale, of all people, had what appeared to be an original copy!

The inside cover even has something written in handwriting from, possibly, the two writers.

_‘I do not regret what I wrote’ -N_

_‘It was good for a laugh’ -T_

Crowley chuckled lightly to himself as he opened up to the additions added to Genesis, reading about the Angel of the Eastern Gate of Eden being asked by God where he had misplaced his flaming sword. From Crowley’s extra research, he had discovered that angel to be the Principality Aziraphale, and it only seemed rather fitting that someone like his human in the other room would share his name with an angel who was sassy with God Herself.

“Ah, guess you were just enough of a bastard for writers to remove you, eh, Aziraphale?” He said to himself as he read over the passage again.

“Just enough of a bastard for who?”

The angel tensed up, turning to see Aziraphale looking at him with a raised eyebrow, before his eyes went to the book that laid open on the shelf. Crowley took note that the man was wearing glasses, a pair that looked so old that not even a hipster would call them cool. What century do you think it is, angel, Crowley wanted to ask, but he just smiled.

“Oh, the angel you’re named after! He’s in the Bugger Alle This Bible, yes? Being a smartass to God cause he gave his sword away to Adam and Eve.”

Aziraphale smiled a little and shrugged. “Well, I always considered the idea that he lied to the Almighty because he knew he would get in trouble for giving it away, even though he did it from the kindness of his heart! Though, I also considered the idea that giving the humans an all-powerful sword that was on fire might have led humanity down a dangerous road…”

“Well, if it makes you feel better, I always considered the snake of Eden being a bit of a decent guy. I mean, maybe he had shared the Fruit of Knowledge in order to help humanity understand the world around them, instead of being kept in the dark? I mean, what’s so bad about knowing the difference between good and evil anyway?”

The blond looked at him, almost as if he was studying him. “I don’t think there’s anything bad about it, but it was still dangerous to do that. But I suppose if the angel and the snake were to have spoken about this exact topic, right after Adam and Eve were removed, I guess they would see it as we do, maybe? I mean, after all, it’s ineffable, the actions of two individuals doing what they thought was the right thing to do.”

“I think you’re right.” Crowley replied as he gently closed the book, slipping it back into place. “How’d the business thing go? Gonna get that book?”

“Oh yes!” Aziraphale’s mood picked up suddenly. “I’ll be getting it by the end of next week! Just another piece for my collection!” He turned around, moving down the aisle of books. “I need to return to my computer, have to work on something I didn’t finish yesterday. Do return to dusting, and stay out of the glass cabinets, those books are meant to stay in there!”

Crowley nodded, watching him walk off until he stopped, eyeing something, before letting out a shout as he moved to grab at the book Anathema had moved around earlier. He caught the witchy girl’s eye and she winked at the angel. He chuckled and returned to dusting.

\--

The shop opened four hours ago, and Crowley had been taking notes.

First off, he took note of Aziraphale being completely obsessed with having things in his shop in specific places. Even if they weren’t on the right shelf, he rather they be in the general area they’re meant to be in. Clearly, this man knew a thing or two about organized chaos, considering all the stacks of books and parchment set in specific locations.

Second, he was constantly moving.

Crowley had seen Aziraphale leave his office at least ten times. He was a bit antsy, like he needed something to do. Quietly, Crowley had asked Anathema if this was normal, and she said yes. Normally, he’d just grab a book and start reading, but there were customers in the store.

And that was another thing that the redhead was writing down in the small notepad he had used a miracle to make. He peeked over a shelf, watching as Aziraphale moved towards someone, and politely, yet with a tiny bit of aggression, told them that the book they were holding was not for sale at all. The poor woman looked really confused and Aziraphale just smiled and took the book from her hand.

Crowley watched as the blond made his way to a man, and the two started to get into a bit of an argument over a copy of Wilde that Aziraphale really did not want being touched. With a huff, Crowley made his way over, watching as the argument seemed to get a bit louder.

“Sir, I cannot let you buy it. It’s a personal item of my great grandfather, and I doubt he’d like for it to be sold when it was signed to him by Mr. Wilde himself!” Aziraphale was getting red in the face.

“I’m willing to offer a high price. You’re the only shop in this area that has this book.” The man glared down at Aziraphale, who simply stood ground.

“I don’t care, I’ve marked that this is collection is not for sale.”

Before the stranger could speak, Crowley grinned and made himself known, standing behind the bookseller. “Yeah, best to listen to Mr. Fell. If the book ain’t for sale… than it ain’t for sale! Not sure how that’s hard to understand.”

He lifted a hand, resting his arm on his human’s shoulder as he pointed at the man. “Might be best to just put that book back where you found it and continue your search with a less stubborn bookshop owner, okay?” He flicked his finger and the man turned his hard eyes on the redhead.

“Fine, whatever, it’s probably not even worth the price.” He grumbled, putting the book back before making his way out of the shop.

“He just…” Aziraphale blinked. “He just gave up so easily.”

“Yes.” Crowley leaned against Aziraphale, grinning from ear to ear. “Just took a few words and… a bit of angelic influence to get him to go about his merry way, yeah?”

There was a quiet pause before Aziraphale mumbled a thank you, even from this angle, Crowley could see that he looked embarrassed, but thankful. Crowley looked at him for a moment, suddenly feeling a pulse of comfort come from the shorter man.

Then they realized the position they were in and Crowley was nearly bowled over by the sudden wave of embarrassment and basically the emotional cocktail that makes up the phrase ‘what the hell was that’ come from Aziraphale. They quickly parted and the angel went back to observing from a distance.

Lunch brought the two of them out at a nice sushi place, guess the drunk talk last night put Aziraphale in the mood. He seemed to be on good terms with the people here, addressing them by their names and in Japanese, which was rather interesting to Crowley. “I didn’t know you spoke Japanese.”

“Oh,” Aziraphale paused in picking up his cup, “well, I know several languages, actually. I have a pretty good memory for it. I know certain dialects of Spanish and Chinese, Japanese, German, Italian, my Russian is pretty decent, I’ve learned Egyptian Arabic from someone I’ve become good friends with at the British Museum, but my French is… lacking.”

He chuckled a little to him. “Oh, how silly that I know Latin, yet I always struggle with French. Just never seems to stick for me, but I can read a bit of it. Took me ages to get through de Sade’s works.”

Crowley nodded as he sipped his cup of rice wine. “You’re a man of literature, yes? Well, no shit, but oes it makes you happy? Or it is something that keeps you occupied?”

“Whatever do you mean, my dear boy?”

“Well, ya know, angel, it’s like…” He had to think, he didn’t want to just make it obvious, “do you enjoy your work?”

“Of course I do! I’m rather proud of that collection of mine, thank you very much!”

“Yet you refuse to sell anything.”

“It upsets me when I do, I am to be perfectly honest.” The blond sighed, though he perked up a bit when his platter was placed before him, saying a thank you to the waiter. Crowley gave a nod in thanks when a small platter was set down for him. Aziraphale continued when the waiter was out of earshot. “I suppose it’s something I’ve grown up with, my grandfather took great care of the family collection and everything he added to it. A few people had damaged some of his wares and he practically banned people from the shop.”

He ate a bite of food before continuing. “Oh, he was a stubborn man, my grandpa Az. But I admired him greatly. He used to say ‘Azira, when you find something you love, something that means the world to you, never let it go. People say if you love something, set it free, but sometimes that doesn’t work for people. Sometimes, you and whatever you love will always stick together, through thick and thin, through ups and downs, life and death’.”

He smiled sadly. “I guess the collection is something I’ll always love and hold onto. Do you get what I mean?”

Crowley looked at him, giving a nod. Love means a lot to angels, even someone like Crowley knew this all too well. It’s practically drilled into your soul when you get your wings and your halo, love comes in so many wonderful forms. Sure, some angels themselves don’t really feel the urges of love, but they do understand them, but Crowley knew what love was.

His greatest love was towards his car, that Bentley is a pride and joy of his that meant everything.

He knew love towards his mother, the person who raised him, who cared about him even after he had a falling out with her and got tied up with some bad people. He felt love towards the wonderful woman who took him in when he was at his lowest and helped reunite him with his mother before she left this world.

And… even if he couldn’t remember it, couldn’t understand it, he knew he had felt true, romantic love and attraction towards someone. Whoever they were, he wondered if they had ever felt the same about him before his untimely passing.

“I getcha. Angels know love like you know your store. Sure, lots of ‘em don’t feel love, but they know it, they understand it, it’s a very human thing.”

“Did you ever love something?”

Crowley sighed, giving a shrug. He wasn’t sure if he could tell Aziraphale he had once been human, he didn’t know if there was a rule about that, or if he might upset the man with finding out he had died a horrible death years ago. “I suppose, I’ve felt different forms of love towards… beings. Have you ever felt romantic love?”

It was the other’s turn to shrug as he ate another bite. “Possibly? There’s… a gap in my memory, from something that happened quite a while ago. I remember I had felt so much joy, but then…” He chuckled, shaking his head. “Let’s change the topic, are you going to eat or just keep looking at me?”

“Can’t I do both?” Crowley grinned as he picked up a piece of sushi roll between his fingers and stuck out his forked tongue, quickly snatching the bite from his fingers and swallowed it whole.

Aziraphale made a face and started to laugh. “Goodness, you really are a snake!”

“And don’t you forget it!” The redhead elbowed him, chuckling a bit himself. He was happy, but he could sense that strange sludge of feelings that the bookseller kept locked away pulse once more.

Did you lose someone you loved? Did they do something to you to upset you like this, angel?

\--

These questions bothered Crowley’s mind for the rest of the day, even as he continued to note Aziraphale’s daily activities. He wrote down little notes about the man’s habits of leaving odd smelling things about in the shop to keep people out, how he had an ancient gramophone that he used to play music in the shop, that he answered nearly all his calls with an old rotary phone.

He even took some notes of Anathema, and how the girl wouldn’t stop staring at him!

His depressing questions about Aziraphale’s past were ignored as he approached her at the end of the day (actually, it was only about three and Aziraphale had planned on closing early just because). “Device, what is up with the staring?” He hissed as her quietly. “Do you do that to everyone you meet?”

She paused in putting her stuff away in her bag, looking up at him from behind her glasses. “I could ask you the same thing, you keep staring at my boss.”

“There is a difference. I’m observing for my job.”

“And I’m observing to get a read on you. Your aura…” She stepped up to him, circling around him, making Crowley bristle up. “It’s so strange. It’s clearly not natural for a human, it’s like a burning ring of black and silver fire or something, must be that angel stuff of yours. Yet… there’s also a hint of human aura to you, around your core.”

He stepped away, frowning as he flushed lightly. “Is that a problem for you? You mentioned my aura this morning, is that why you keep staring.”

“No, and yes, it just makes me curious. Are you… by chance, a human angel?”

“In a sense, yes.” He spoke quietly. “And don’t tell Aziraphale, I’d rather tell him that myself when the time is right. I’ve dropped enough truth bombs on him since yesterday.”

“I won’t say anything.” Anathema replied, shaking her head. “However…”

“However?” He raised an eyebrow, looking at her with more suspicion than ever.

“If you give me something, I’ll be sure to keep my mouth shut on any bit of information you’re willing to spare me that you’re too nervous to tell Aziraphale about.” She grinned and he huffed, asking what she wanted from him. “A feather.”

Crowley tilted his head. “A feather.”

“Yes! Do you know how many witches have owned a real angel feather?” She looked like an excited child. “Not many, and certainly none in this century! Just one is all I need!”

“Are you gonna use it for witchcraft?” Crowley asked as he looked around, they were all alone. When she replied that she was not going to do that, she just wanted it to rub it in some people’s faces and to just have in her collection, he relented and stepped back, into a more open space.

Anathema’s eyes widened in shock as she saw large, black wings come out of his back, gently moving before resting against his back. “Black wings…” She whispered. “You really are an angel… but why are they black?”

“It’s a combination of being a human-born angel, we’re always displayed with imperfections, and the fact that angels can choose the color of their wings. I went with black cause I do have an aesthetic.”

“Fascinating.” She mumbled, still in awe as she watched him pull a large feather out with a small wince, shaking his wings a bit before he handed it to her. “Thank you! And I won’t speak a word to him until you do!”

Crowley rolled his eyes, before hearing Aziraphale’s voice as he entered the room. “Anathema, are you about to he- oh! Crowley!” The blond gasped and rushed over. “W-what are you doing?”

“She knows, angel. She figured it out, can’t hide anything from a witch.” He snorted, ignoring Anathema’s comment of ‘technically I like being called an occultist’ as he turned to face Aziraphale better. “Just showing her my wings as extra proof, in case she had doubts.”

“Nope, no doubts. See you later, Aziraphale! Mr. Crowley.” She replied before humming, making her way out the door.

Aziraphale raised an eyebrow before crossing his arms. “Are you two playing nicely?”

“Totally, angel! I have a feeling that the two of us will be good friends!”

“Why do I get the feeling that I should be worried about that…?”

\--

Michael looked up from her glass phone, seeing the smiling angel in front of her. “Gabriel.” She greeted in a calm, tired tone.

“Michael, my dear!” Gabriel greeted in return with a much more chipper tone. “How is the snake doing on his first day?”

“Well, it appears that he’s been taking notes.” She spoke as she looked at the messages on her phone.

“Excellent!”

“And he also got drunk.”

“… What?”

Turning the phone, Michael presented Gabriel with an image of Crowley, flushed in the face, clearly drunk, and pointing at a drawing inside of an old book. It was clearly a bible of sorts, and he was laughing, while the human he was assigned to looked to be trying to hide his own drunken laughter as he held the book up over his mouth.

Under the drunken selfie from Crowley was a message: ‘who let gabbie hav a 8 pack! He aint riped’

Gabriel sighed loudly, pinching the bridge of his nose. “Should have sent someone with him like we had planned…”

“Oh no! No one wants to get their fingerprints on that crime scene of an angel!” Michael huffed. “I’ll just let him live with the regrets in the morning- oh, he sent another picture. He’s asking if his human is the angel Aziraphale. But he spelled the name wrong.”

“Please block his number until the morning… and give him a call about his behavior!”

“Yes, yes, already on it.”

TBC

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Next chapter will be a bit of a time skip, I’m sure.
> 
> Although Crowley is gonna get chewed out by his bosses for being a doofus.
> 
> Next chapter: The mission continues and Crowley starts to notice things about Aziraphale that might be more than just his normal job-based observations…
> 
> Thanks for reading! Please comment and kudos!


	5. Chapter 5

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A night in bed with Aziraphale, for reasons that are not physical, Crowley begins to have thoughts about things. His stress levels aren’t doing great right now, especially when he is paid a visit by his bosses.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> We’re gonna get a bit more angel content in this chapter, and not just from Crowley. Along with a look into Crowley’s past.
> 
> Please note, Crowley is canonically a genderfluid character in the TV series (and to me, in the other adaptations as well), and with anything I write or make of him, he is as such, or he’s trans/nonbinary. However, he tends to go with he/him pronouns more often, especially in a story like this. I did hint to it back in chapter two, I believe, but he does use she, and possibly they. Plus, he’s a trans man as well and I may or may not be projecting a little. Anyway, more will be explained in due time… probably next chapter.
> 
> On with the fic!

It was once a topic of much discussion in a cathedral in the south of France in the fifteenth century, a topic that came up with a young civilian approached the heads of the church and simply asked:

‘Are angels capable of dreaming?’

For eighteen years, the church was trying to figure out this question and simply came up with the answer of no, why would they need to? They never sleep!

That’s not true, there is the exception of two known cases.

One, of an angel who got too drunk on wine in Rome and slept for three days, waking up to say he dreamt that he had been a cat in a room full of scrolls and had lazed about and enjoyed being pampered.

The second was Crowley, who had dreams every night since he returned to Earth for his mission. He didn’t remember every dream he had in this past week, but he knew they were simple things. However, tonight, his was stress dreaming.

Stress dreaming what a problem for him when he had been alive, often leaving him with aching teeth from grinding, and feeling terribly exhausted the next day. They tended to be based on whatever was giving him troubles when he was awake.

As of this moment, he was in his borrowed bed in Aziraphale’s flat, tossing and turning as he dreamt of a time when he was human…

_Crawley, as she was called then, clutched tightly to the wheel of her Bentley, wanting nothing more than to drive over a hundred and ten on the M25, just to get out of the situation she was in._

_The group she hated to be associated with, her ‘friends’, were causing trouble and she was the poor sucker who was the get away driver. She didn’t want any part of this, she hadn’t wanted to get herself involved in their nonsense anymore, not after getting herself a nice job that paid well. Crawley had told them off three years ago, she was done, finished, ain’t doing this kinda shit anymore!_

_Sure, the crimes she was involved with weren’t bad, it was more of just causing some trouble, like when she knocked out the mobile network for all of London with an elaborate plan involving rats. She also rather enjoyed the time she had glued coins all over sidewalks, or even the time she had caused a traffic jam in the middle of London’s most busy district during rush hour._

_But no, somehow ol’ Luci got her pulled back in for ‘one last gig’, one that he knew she wouldn’t approve of. Hey, as long as her fingerprints weren’t on this mess…_

_She heard an alarm go off somewhere and started the car. “Sure, yeah, get the guy with the old fashion car to drive, no one will ever recognize it.” Crawley growled, glaring at his reflection in the mirror. He sighed, running a hand through dark locks, no, present yourself ‘naturally’ to them. None of them knew…_

_She snapped her head in the direction of a shout, seeing three men running towards the car. Lucas, the leader of the gang and her on-again-off-again boyfriend, got into the passenger seat, while his henchmen of sorts, Harris and Lin, climbed into the back. She was quick to pull out fast, before any security and the like saw._

_“What did you do this time?”_

_“Nothin’.” Lin mumbled from the backseat, removing the ski mask he had been wearing, she could see his green and orange dyed hair in the rearview mirror, tacky._

_“Doesn’t seem like nothin’.” Crawley grumbled as she swerved and turned a corner._

_“None of your business, Crawl.” Harris spoke up and boy she wanted to deck him, hated that frog-mouthed bastard._

_“Seems like my kinda business.” Why was she getting stressed out, this was a normal job, she knew how to do this as well as she knew how to breathe. Why did Crawley’s chest feel tight? Why did she feel guilty, more so than she remembered being…?_

_“Angel.” Crawley whispered before slamming down on the breaks and_ suddenly Crowley found himself staring at a ceiling in the dark.

The air was heavy, he could feel a swirl of strong, negative emotions all around him, drifting from the open door to his room. He laid there in silence, holding a breath he didn’t even need, as he gently heard murmurs from down the hall.

He closed his eyes, straining to hear. They sounded distressed, small pleas… and with that, Crowley was down the hall so fast that he didn’t even realize he had gotten out of bed in the first place. He found himself standing in the doorway to Aziraphale’s room, the room he had yet to explore since he was invited to live here.

He couldn’t see much inside of it, the faint glowing of neon lights from Soho outside barely illuminated the room, but he could make out the moving shape that had to be the bookseller on his bed. He was talking in his sleep, but it was hard to tell what he said.

“Let there be light.” Crowley whispered, snapping his fingers as a nightlight appeared in an outlet in the wall, illuminating the room in a gentle light.

Crowley’s heart ached as he looked at Aziraphale, seeing the poor man shifting about, clutching as his sheets as his face held an expression of destress, of guilt. He was crying, was he having a nightmare? Quietly, Crowley moved to the side of the bed, sitting down as he gently placed a hand on the blond’s cheek.

The emotions were ten times stronger now that he was this close to Aziraphale and it broke Crowley’s heart to feel them. Was he dreaming of the cause for his pain?

“Angel…” He gently stroked his cheek, wiping at a tear.

“I’m sorry…” Aziraphale mumbled in his sleep. “I didn’t… please don’t leave me, not again…”

With shaking fingers, Crowley touched at Aziraphale’s forehead, trying to comfort him with angelic magic, but Aziraphale gasped and his eyes opened, making the angel pull back. He panted hard, trying to swallow, before he looked at the company on his bed. “C-Crowley?”

“Hey…” Crowley frowned gently, placing his hands on his lap. “You okay?”

“What happened…?” Aziraphale asked before sitting up, reaching for the glass of water at his side table.

“You had a nightmare; your emotions woke me up.” The actually affected his own dream, tweaking what had been a memory where he had actually flipped off his former friends and drove off, a memory that actually took place before he got his new job and left his old life, before his death. “Do you remember what you were dreaming about?”

Aziraphale shook his head, laughing without joy. “I never do, but they rattle my bones something terrible, my dear. I’m sorry, I wish you hadn’t, well, felt those.” He was aware that Crowley could sense emotions, especially strong ones. Just part of being an angel, from what the redhead had told him.

“’S not a problem…” Crowley moved a little closer. “I was worried about you, you were crying.”

“Oh dear.” The blond frowned, rubbing at his face. “Again, terribly sorry about all of this. I should let you get back to sleep, didn’t mean to disturb you.”

Crowley snorted, shaking his head as he stood up. “Nope, I’m staying awake until you fall asleep again, then I’m gonna make sure you enjoy the rest of your sleep! Stay right there, I’m gonna get you a cup of cocoa.”

“Oh! You don’t have-” But Crowley was out the door before Aziraphale could finish and the man sighed softly. He leaned back against his headboard, rubbing at his face again. He couldn’t believe he had a nightmare! It’s been over a month since the last one, he thought he was doing better. But the human mind is a terrible thing at times, so… it was bound to happen again.

He closed his eyes, trying to calm himself. Aziraphale never remembered the dreams, which was for the best, but it was still dreadful that he didn’t know why he’d wake up crying.

“Angel, no sleeping until this is done.”

Something warm and with a delightful scent was under his nose, making Aziraphale open his eyes to find a cup of hot chocolate in front of him. He smiled as he took it, seeing that Crowley made himself one. With a word of thanks, the blond took a sip, blinking. “This is delicious.” He commented without thinking and Crowley barked a laugh.

“It should be, I made it just like I’ve seen you do it.” He replied before taking a drink from his own cup.

Aziraphale looked at the cup in his hands, blinking. Crowley had watched him? He knew exactly how Aziraphale liked his cocoa, even putting it in his angel cup? He smiled softly, looking at the other man who seemed to be interested in the new nightlight that the bookseller suddenly had.

Even in this light, he could see that the other was blushing.

“Thank you, my dear. You’re too good for me.”

“Ah, I’m not too good for ya.” Crowley mumbled. “I doubt I’m good enough to even be the annoying snake in your shop, which I am.”

“Well, that’s your opinion, but you’re my Guardian Angel, and you’re doing an amazing job.” He patted the open side of his bed. “Come, get comfy. You said you wanted to make sure I slept alright, so you might as well join me in bed.”

Crowley made a strange sound, almost like it was spelled ‘ngk’ if you tried to write it, before looking at him with wide, snake eyes. Actually, they were completely snake like and Aziraphale felt his cheeks burn for some reason. There was surprise written clear as day on Crowley’s face before he chuckled, getting up to move to the other side of the bed to sit down on it.

“Happy?” He asked and Aziraphale laughed.

“Oh yes, very happy. Now get comfortable, my dear boy, and let me read to you. It helps me sleep, and I’m sure it’ll be good for us both.”

The angel nodded, taking another drink from his cup before he slipped under the old covers. Aziraphale sipped from his own mug before he started to speak, he had memorized all of the original Winnie the Pooh stories and decided to ‘read’ to Crowley from his own memory. He chose the one that introduced Tigger, as he felt like Crowley would like the stuffed tiger.

The room was quiet, the sounds of the city traffic outside were ignored as Crowley laid there, listening to Aziraphale tell his stories, even using voices. He smiled softly to himself as he watched the human get excited as he spoke. He looked so lovely in the dim light, haloed almost, his smile so sweet and excited, like he was in his element to speak with such passion about something that he personally enjoyed.

Crowley hated to say this, but his heart skipped a beat when they made eye contact, yellow and hazel, and Aziraphale’s smile turned softer, as sweet as a honey-coated apple slice. A smile just for Crowley.

Oh.

_Oh no._

This can’t be good, Crowley thought to himself, was he… was he even allowed to crush on a guy he only knew for about a week?

That’s a problem for future Crowley, right now, he was gonna go back to sleepily enjoying his bedtime story, the taste of rich chocolate on his tongue.

\--

Aziraphale found himself waking up the next morning to the sun just finishing rising over the horizon, if that were possible to see from his window in a city. But it was how he normally woke up on his days off and he sighed in content, moving to go back to sleep.

Until there was a small mumble next to him and he jolted, turning to see who was there.

He looked into the face of his Guardian Angel, sleeping soundly on the pillow next to Aziraphale’s normal one. He was sleeping with his face looking up at the ceiling, an arm of his wrapped around Aziraphale’s under the blanket, and his other arm, and a leg, hanging off the side of the bed, with blankets knocked askew.

Quietly, Aziraphale observed the sleeping angel, surprised that they even slept. But Crowley was just a basket of surprises, wasn’t he?

He studied the way the man looked, sharp angles everywhere, even in his face. His nose looked a little crooked, kinda added a bit of cuteness to it, if Aziraphale was gonna be honest with himself. He looked at the crow’s feet Crowley sported, didn’t know angels to have wrinkles and the like. He even was in need of a shave.

Aziraphale felt his cheeks heating up and decided to look at something else, the tattoo on Crowley’s face. He never did explain where that came from, was it to mark that he was able to be a snake? It was beautifully detailed, from what the blond could tell.

“Marvelous mystery, that’s you.” He whispered.

“Thanks, angel…” Crowley mumbled and Aziraphale yelped, glowering as he saw an amused smile come to the angel, a golden eye now looking at him.

“How long have you been awake?”

“About five minutes? Maybe.” Crowley moved to sit up, yawning loudly when he did. Aziraphale watched him as he stretched, popping his back. “Takin’ in the show?” Crowley asked, smirking at him and Aziraphale huffed, getting up from the bed.

“Oh, shush and get yourself ready for the day.” He replied as he moved to the bathroom to wash his face.

“Hmmm…” Crowley slipped from the bed and moved down the hall to his room. “What’s the plans for today?”

“Well,” Aziraphale started as he looked himself over in the mirror, “I don’t work today, so we can do whatever we so wish. Would you like to go out for breakfast today?”

“Sure, sounds great. Got something in mind?” Crowley replied from his room.

“What do you say to some crepes?” Aziraphale smiled as he put a bit of facial cream around his eyes.

He suddenly saw Crowley poke his head into the bathroom from the reflection in the mirror. “I’ll treat you.” He winked before zipping away. The blond heard him escape, before hearing him slip on the floor in his socks.

An hour later found Aziraphale freshened up and dressed, down in the shop as he waited on Crowley to finish with getting himself ready. Really, for a man who can just snap his fingers and be dressed, he sure took his time to get himself ready with everything else.

As the bookseller waited, he heard a knock at the front door of the shop, seeing two shadowed figures behind the pulled-down blind. “I’m sorry!” He called out to them. “We’re closed for the day.”

There was another knock and Aziraphale huffed. “We’re closed! Come back tomorrow!”

Again, another knock and Aziraphale was about to throw open the door and tell them off to their faces, but he watched as the lock moved on its own and he was suddenly grabbing at a desk lamp. The door opened and Aziraphale lowered the lamp, staring in confusion at the two strangers.

Both of them appeared to be men, dressed in suits of light tones. The taller of the two was dressed in a gray and lavender combo, his hair perfectly tamed and his smile was pure plastic. The shorter of the two was dressed in an orange-brown suit, looking as slimy as the clay the suit’s color matched with how he was smiling.

Aziraphale suddenly felt an instant surge of distrust and dislike towards them, with a small mix of fear. “Can I… help you?” He asked as he set the lamp down on the table.

“Yes, you can!” Smiled the taller man, he looked like he wanted to make a different expression, but he was clearly not going to. “We’re looking for Crawley.”

“Crowley.” The shorter man corrected.

“Ah, yes, whatever it is he calls himself. I know he’s here; you are his human after all.” The plastic man spoke, then made a face. “Can smell him too.”

Aziraphale felt his back straighten as all his instincts screamed ‘don’t let them know Crowley’s here’. But the loud yawn from his stairwell made that impossible. “We heading out now, an- oh fuck.” Crowley hissed as he looked at the two strangers.

He was suddenly at Aziraphale’s side, standing a bit in front of him, as if to protect the man. “Gabriel, Sandalphon, to what do I owe the pleasure?” Crowley said through his own fake smile, his teeth clenched as he spoke, he even had fangs.

Gabriel and Sandalphon? Aziraphale’s mouth dropped, these were angels! “Archangel Gabriel, the messenger of God?” He asked, looking at the taller man who had a real smile on his face now. “Sandalphon, the angel said to have been involved in the destruction of Sodom and Gamora?”

“Ah, clever.” Sandalphon nodded. “And you, ironically, have an angel’s name yourself.”

“My grandfather from a few generations ago was obsessed with angels…” Aziraphale started before Crowley cleared his throat.

“Again, what are you two doing here?” The redhead asked, crossing his arms. “If you don’t mind, we’re trying to head out for today.”

“Is it part of your job?” Gabriel asked.

Crowley made a noise. “Sure, yeah, why not. Look, I already got yelled at over the phone by Michael for getting drunk, I’m fine.” Aziraphale remembered that call well, woke him and Crowley up from their hangovers, and her screaming at Crowley for being an idiot did not help. Bet even Hell heard that embarrassing disaster.

Sandalphon grinned at him, Aziraphale really didn’t like him being here. “We just wanna make sure you’re doing alright; this is your first time being a Guardian Angel after all. We can’t have the wily Crowley making a fool of himself on his first job, yes?”

“And I’m doing just fine, don’t need a damn babysitter to help me keep an eye on Aziraphale.” Crowley snipped and Gabriel mumbled something under his breath, ignoring the look that the redhead gave him, what had the man said? Sounded weird. “I’ll report to you guys later tonight, when we’re done.” He moved to walk them outside, away from the blond.

Once outside, Crowley closed the door and glowered deeply behind his shades. “What the fuck are you two playing at? Don’t you trust me? I’ve been a pretty good angel in those five years I’ve been one, do you guys think I’m gonna throw all that work away just cause I’m back here?”

Gabriel’s smile was gone as he looked down at Crowley, there was only an inch between them in height, but the other angel’s slouching gave the archangel an edge. “It’s standard to check in on a newbie. And we doubt you’d just walk away, considering all the complaining you did to get this job. Besides, we just wanted to see if things were going… well, with you and your human. He’s a bit of a troublesome case, you know.”

“I still think we should reassign him.” Sandalphon sniffed, ignoring the sharp look he got from Crowley. “Too much… baggage, yes?”

“It’s what he was assigned, I’m afraid.” Gabriel sighed dramatically. “No amount of complaining to the higher ups can change that.”

“Stop talking like I’m not here.” Crowley huffed and moved to go back inside. “I’ll send the report tonight, but for now… I’ve got a date!”

He watched them both suddenly flinch, and he rolled his eyes. “Figure of speech, jeez, learn to get with the times.”

He slammed the door in their faces when he went inside. Gabriel grit his teeth as he looked at the door before turning away. “Stubborn idiot, as always. Come, let’s get my new suit and get out of this disgusting place, it reeks of sin.”

“Ah, that’s Soho for you.”

Crowley sighed loudly and slumped over the desk when he approached Aziraphale, not caring that he knocked some things down. He felt a gentle pat to his back and looked up at his favorite being in the universe. “Are you alright, dear?” He asked, a bit of worry on that face.

The angel felt his heart skip a beat again, shit!

“Business stuff, ya know how I can be, angel. Come, I promised you crepes, let’s go.” He sat up and put a hand on Aziraphale’s lower back, heading for the door with him.

“Do you want to talk about it?” The shorter of the two asked softly as he stepped outside, locking the door behind him. “You seem rather frazzled. Did they say or do something to make you look as if your feathers are ruffled?”

Crowley sighed, sagging his shoulders. “Angel, it’s alright, they normally stress me out anyway. They’re higher on the food chain than I am, even if they’re from the lower arc of angels, idiots.”

Aziraphale just nodded. “Can’t say I was expecting to meet some more angels, especially the Archangel Gabriel. What a twat.”

This got a startled, choking sound from Crowley before it turned into a full-on laugh as he leaned against Aziraphale. “I can’t believe you just called one of the most famous angels in the freaking Bible a twat. Oh, Aziraphale, I’d kiss you for that if you say it to his face.”

_I’d just kiss you in general, but that would be as good enough as an excuse as any._

Crowley quickly threw that thought behind himself as he coughed into his fist, reminding them both that they were to go out for breakfast today! Yes, right, breakfast, and apparently a tour around the city, at Aziraphale’s request!

That’s fine, totally fine, even though Crowley knew this city well. As long as he was distracted from these new thoughts, even though he’d be walking around with the reason for them!

Today was either going to be paradise or the inferno.

TBC

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Part one of Crowley realizing that he’s got feelings for Aziraphale! Starting out gentle, even though this fool’s been crushing since Aziraphale put that jacket over his head, it finally clicked… took him a week, so that’s not too bad.
> 
> Part two is them on a ‘date’, and I am apologizing now, but I’ve never been to London so I dunno shit about what they’d see. 
> 
> I’m open to suggestions of spots that seem like places Aziraphale would happily show Crowley, seeing as he has no idea that the guy was once a human. So yes, if you know any good places, let me know! If not, I can look up some website for good attractions.
> 
> I apologize also for the dream Crowley had, there is a reason why it seems so weirdly placed, but it’s part of his side of the story, of his past, and it is important. Who was Crowley before Crowley, who was Crawley? 
> 
> Also, Aziraphale really fucked the dream up with his emotions.
> 
> Hmmm…
> 
> Next Chapter: Is this a date? Is it? Can angels date??? Oh Somebody, please say they can! 
> 
> Thanks for reading, please comment and kudos!


	6. Chapter 6

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Crowley and Aziraphale go out on the town for the day, to get away from the bookshop, to get away from certain thoughts. It’s a good day to be open about things, not all things, but some. No need to drop your whole life’s story on a guy you’ve only known a week, right?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I had the worst time writing this chapter, so I gave up and this is what you guys get. I’m sorry.
> 
> Also, I have never been to London, even though I lived in Europe for eight years, so I am totally bullshitting on this date around the city. A few of the places that they visit are real places and based on some stuff I had to look up. And some are just made up but could really exist, they're just not really described or named.
> 
> A note: I will die on the hill that Crowley enjoyed being a nanny.
> 
> On with the fic!

“So, let me get this straight: you got a good chunk of Heaven’s lower circle of angels addicted to coffee?”

“Yep.”

“Simply because you pulled a Fredrick the Great with royal potatoes being banned from being stolen, only it’s you with hoarding away coffee, just to have a good laugh?”

“Pretty much!”

“Oh, Crowley.” Aziraphale sighed but started to laugh a bit. Crowley smiled at him from behind his cup.

The two had found a lovely little place in the city, not too far from Soho, where they served a delightful crepe. It was even run by a French couple that made their own jams. Crowley himself had a simple one, but Aziraphale’s had all the bells and whistles of a delicious, sweet meal.

They had started talking a bit, just the little things. Crowley had decided to delight Aziraphale with little stories about Heaven. He told him gossip on the angels he was familiar with, getting snarky comments and questions from the blond.

Seems that he rather liked knowing how ridiculous these figures of legend truly were. Aziraphale smiled a bit as he took a bite of his food, nearly moaning at how perfect the bite had been. The angel across the table from him nearly choked on his drink before he quickly turned away.

“Say, what do you know of Hell, anyway?” Aziraphale asked, catching Crowley’s attention back to him.

“Ehhh… as I said, it’s business-like, just like Heaven, except cold and dirty.” The other commented. He hadn’t been to Hell, but the idea of it, just the knowledge of it, let him have this scene of it being boring, miserable, and shitty. So, basically, like working in customer service. “Why do you ask?”

“Curiosity, really.” The bookseller replied as he sipped his cup of tea. “Didn’t know if angels were allowed down there.”

“Fallen ones, yeah.” Crowley didn’t care to talk about that, the topic of Fallen Angels always bummed him out. From his readings, a lot of them were cast out simply for being in the wrong place at the wrong time, or their curiosity got the best of them. Kinda sucks, but really, if it’s all part of the Great Plan… well… he might not be allowed to comment on it.

“I see.” Aziraphale seemed to get the memo that Crowley didn’t want to continue that topic anymore, so he was quick to move on. “I want to take you around London.”

He had mentioned this earlier, before they headed out, before the interruption. “Why is that?”

“Well, you’ve been up in Heaven, I feel like I should be a gracious host and show you around the town you’re visiting, yes?”

Right, Aziraphale didn’t know Crowley had been human. So, he was being kind enough to play tour guide to a city that Crowley was born in, the angel didn’t have the heart to correct him. Aziraphale looked so damn happy about his idea, it was coming off him in waves. He wanted to do this out of the goodness of his heart and Crowley wasn’t going to be the barer of bad news.

“Sounds like a plan, whatcha got in mind?”

“Well… I’d rather like to show you the most historical places, however that can be a bit boring and predictable. Maybe I can show you the more… macabre places of interest in terms of history.” He snorted. “Oh, don’t give me that look. I know you broke into my restricted cabinet, and you got into that long conversation with Anathema about how ridiculous the witch hunts were. You like spooky, and, well, I’m up for the challenge of showing you spooky!”

Crowley raised an eyebrow, but his lips quirked into a smirk as he leaned across the table. “Alright then, angel, show me the dark history of ol’ London Town.”

\--

An easy enough choice to start this tour was the Tower of London, clearly the number one spot to visit if you’re into the spooky. And Crowley very much was! Would have told you so straight up back when he was a mortal!

Aziraphale spent the walk around the tower talking about the history, about famous people who had been imprisoned, and even some of the most famous, and infamous, beheadings and executions. The tour guide they were with wasn’t too pleased with the constant chatter from the back of the group, but Crowley was greatly enjoying the talking.

He was quick to note that when Aziraphale knew a topic, he would go on for hours about it, and there was something rather endearing about it. He had a passion, he loved knowledge, he loved collecting it and reading it, digging up all the dirt and facts on topics to know everything. He was a creature that couldn’t help being so curious of the unknown, of the known, of everything he could get his hands on.

‘Are you sure you’re not the one who tasted of the Forbidden Fruit?’ Crowley thought to himself as the walked along the streets after their little tour of the Tower of London. ‘Are you the person who wanted to know of the world beyond your own little space? What serpent tempted you into knowledge?’

Another stop was to a museum for Victorian operation viewings and the like. Ah, now this was an interesting one. The Victorian era wasn’t one that Crowley had the best knowledge in, he remembered sleeping through the lessons in class, but in his down time, he had looked up the strangeness of the time.

Turns out it was rather dark (metaphorically and literally, thanks to smog), and totally obsessed with death and sex, which was hilarious. He struck up the conversations in here, talking to Aziraphale about how fascinated Victorians were about death, and finally wanting to know more and more about bodies.

He brought up memento moris and Aziraphale’s expression changed from curious to… conflicted.

“It’s… rather strange, isn’t it?” The blond spoke softly. “To hold onto something of another after their death, to constantly be reminded that they’re dead and gone. Wouldn’t it be best to bury the dead and… move on?”

Crowley nearly stumbled from the emotional whirlwind, it felt like what had woken him up last night.

He reached out and gently placed a hand on the other’s shoulder. “Angel, death sucks, big time. But it’s best to not let someone dear to you be forgotten. Sometimes, people cope in ways that are bad, yes, but others find something comforting in a coping mechanism that might seem a bit dark, but it helps them move on. Like, wearing a lock of your lover’s hair in a necklace, or taking a photo with their corpse before burial, it’s just how some people handled the passing.”

He looked at Aziraphale carefully. “Do you try to bury the dead and just move on?”

Aziraphale looked at him with wide, hazel eyes, his expression was hard to read. “I’ve lost a number of people in my life, and I guess… I just don’t want to think about them being dead, but to have a reminder hurts. I don’t want to feel sad.”

‘But you always feel sad’ Crowley wanted to say, but he kept his mouth shut.

So, a death was involved in this, was it? Must have been someone important, so important that Aziraphale locked everything about them away, deep inside, and lost the key.

“I getcha, it hurts, it’s a pain you can’t get over, but you know they’d never want you to constantly mourn them every time you think about them.”

The other man looked at him and smiled a bit. “I suppose you’re right. Dreadfully sorry, my dear, didn’t mean to sour the mood. And to think, I was going to take you to a museum that has shrunken heads, but the topic of death is so…”

“Hey, hold up! I never said I didn’t want to see some shrunken heads!”

\--

Traveling to each spot was easy when one could literally snap his fingers and suddenly you were somewhere new. They found The Wellcome Collection, exploring the contents of this (and yes, seeing the shrunken heads), along with even going to an art gallery that had just opened recently.

They had lunch too, at a lovely little place that Aziraphale recommended, new one from what Crowley discovered, wasn’t there when he had been alive.

They had found a bookshop where Aziraphale excited himself exploring the shelves for an hour before Crowley dragged him out, having to send home six books the other had happily bought. To make up for it, the bookseller took Crowley to the Cinema Museum, which seemed to really excite the angel.

A quick trip back to Soho had Aziraphale showing Crowley an interesting bit of street art, seven noses that are hidden around. He told Crowley that they were installed as protest art against CCTV cameras and Crowley found that hilarious.

The tour ended with the two sitting on a bench in St. James Park, watching the ducks as they swam about. Aziraphale watched as one duck suddenly was sunk underwater and he turned his attention to the smug looking angel next to him. “Really, my dear.”

Crowley scoffed and the duck was suddenly back, looking annoyed as he swam away.

“Anyway,” the blond began, “did you enjoy today? There are more places, I was going to suggest the reptile house at the zoo, but I wasn’t sure how you felt about that.”

He knew Crowley was a snake, he had seen him as a snake, scared the bejeezus out of him and Anathema when they found a giant, black and red snake on top of a bookshelf the other day. Anathema nearly beat Crowley over the head with an atlas until the snake had spoken. Apparently, he had found the perfect spot in the shop to get warm from the sun and had started to bask, and, well…

The redhead waved a hand. “Ah, it’s fine. We can do that another day.”

Aziraphale nodded, resting his hands on his lap as he turned his attention to the ducks again. A comfortable silence blanketed them, but Aziraphale still felt the need to speak as he looked at Crowley. “You’ve been here before.”

“Of course I have, this is where I met you.”

“No, I mean… You’ve been to London before. I heard some of your comments that you tried to say under your breath as we moved about. ‘Things haven’t changed’, ‘haven’t been here in a while’, things like that. If you’ve been here before, you could have told me.”

Crowley made a strange noise and sat up straight. “Okay. You caught me.” He swallowed and Aziraphale watched him curiously. “Alright, uhh… I’m not… I mean, I am an angel, yeah, but I’m not a natural born angel. I didn’t start off as dust and ashes, I was…”

This is really killing the mood of this date!

Is this even a date? Can’t be, Crowley only just figured out he had a crush on this guy! And Aziraphale didn’t even like him like that, did he???

He’s mentally getting off topic, and thankfully Aziraphale filled in the blank.

“You were human?”

“Yeah.” Why did he feel like he should run? Why did he suddenly feel so uncomfortable and scared?

The shorter man stared at him carefully before he gasped, his eyes wide, his expression one of surprise and distraught. “You died…!”

Crowley winced. “Yeeeaaaahhh…”

Aziraphale seemed to give this some thought, and Crowley really felt like backflipping off the bench and running off. “Do people become angels upon death?”

“No. I mean, not always. Sometimes they do, sometimes someone practically begs for them to become an angel and… bam! Wings! Halo! The whole shebang!”

“Who wanted you to be an angel?”

Crowley was in panic mode and he couldn’t for the life of him figure out why! “I honestly don’t know. I wasn’t a great person when I was alive, I was basically a bastard, a demon of sorts. For the most part. But anyway, yeah, uhh… St. Peter told me up at the Pearly Gates that I wasn’t going where human souls went, I was becoming an angel and then I found myself as I was.”

Black wings, snake eyes, he hadn’t really picked it out, at least not that he knew of. The body he was given, his corporation or whatnot, it had felt so right to be in it. He could appear however he wanted, he could be who he really wanted to be, with a few bonuses.

The halo was odd, a strange warmth around the back of his head, but he loved the wings. The snake features were cool, but he hated the looks he got for them.

He remembered the look he got from Gabriel, a look of horror, before his plastic smile was in place. He had told Crowley that human angels are always marked to not look like natural angels, had told him that he would always stand out. That’s fine, Crowley didn’t care, he always stood out. It confused him though, that he hadn’t really seen any other human angels.

But then again, he was always in his little office space or at the Heavenly library, doing his best to not interact with others except his bosses, and even then, he hated talking to them.

“Goodness.” The other blinked. “And then you were stuck on prayer sorting?”

“Pretty much, though I was quick to apply for a job as a Guardian Angel.”

“Why?”

Crowley opened his mouth but was quick to shut it. He… didn’t really know why. Maybe it was a job that he thought would work well for him, give him a redemption, a reason for why he deserved the wings and halo instead of just being another soul spending the rest of eternity in ‘paradise’. So he told this to Aziraphale, told him he thought he deserved a chance for why he had wings in the first place.

Aziraphale quietly nodded, looking at his shoes before glancing at Crowley. “What were you like? Before you died?”

“A wily bastard.” Crowley smirked before it faltered. “Okay, I was, but I did try to change. I was… terrible, to be honest. I was angry at the world, had a lot of issues with myself, took it out in ways that were bad. Petty crimes, hung out with bad people.” He tapped the side of his head, where his tattoo was. “Got this one night, I had been so distraught and drunk, had a falling out with Mum, and got this. I dunno why a snake or there, hurt like Hell, but… it’s part of me now.”

Why was he being open like this? It’s Aziraphale who is meant to be dishing out his life to the angel, but now it was reversed, and Crowley didn’t understand why. He just wanted to tell Aziraphale everything, he could trust this angel of a man with everything, he didn’t know why, but he just could.

“I used to be a good kid when I was little, I wanted to create things, I wanted to make a name for myself. But when I got older, I started feeling things about myself that confused me, filled me with a fear.”

“What was it, if you don’t mind me asking?” Aziraphale spoke softly, his full attention on Crowley.

“… I, uh… hhh…” Crowley shifted and adjusted himself on the bench, wasn’t much of a change to the weird way he had been sitting in before. “Anthony J. Crowley isn’t my birth name.”

“Oh? What was it before?”

Crowley looked at him, taking off his shades, wanting to give Aziraphale exposed, truthful eyes, so he knows how serious this next truth was. This was something that he was sure most of his superiors didn’t even know about him. Gabriel was aware, made it clear with his ‘nickname’, but he never used it against Crowley, he wasn’t an idiot, and he wasn’t that cruel.

But still, this was a serious thing for the angel, and he wanted Aziraphale to understand this. “My name used to be Ashtoreth J. Crawley. I… use to identify as a woman, still did up until I died. I wasn’t open about being a trans man, only a few people know I was Anthony J. Crawley. Hell, I still don’t even know if I’m a full-on trans man? Ya know, it’s like, really confusing cause I don’t mind being Ashtoreth! But I like being Crowley more, but I don’t care if someone calls me a woman or uses ‘they’ when they speak about me. I just… I just identify as Crowley, yeah?”

He swallowed, his throat really dry, as he toyed with his shades, then dropping his hands on his lap. “Crowley is a good way to describe myself, right? It’s… it’s my name, but it’s me, it’s everything me. Don’t need any other label but my name, I’m sure.”

Aziraphale was quiet as he watched Crowley, the poor man was flushed in the face and looking ready to become a snake and hide away forever. The blond smiled, reaching out and putting his hand over Crowley’s own, giving it a small squeeze. “Thank you for being so honest and open with me, to tell me something like this.”

“You… don’t have a problem with this?”

“Why would I? I mean, you’re still you, yes? You just said so! You’re still the angel that likes messing with my customers and drinking my wine when you think I don’t know you got into it. You’re still the snake that scared Anathema and I, and the friend who comforted me last night.” Aziraphale’s smile could have discorporated Crowley right then and there.

He swallowed hard and moved is hand, returning the squeeze. “T-thanks, Aziraphale. And yeah! I mean..! Ashtoreth, Anthony, who gives a hoot! I’m still me! Crowley, that’s me! Fuck gender, yeah?” He grinned and got a laugh from the other.

“Oh yes, though I am curious. If you went by Crawley as your last name when you were alive, why are you Crowley now?”

Crowley paused. “Well… when I was getting my angelic body, I had to state my name, and I sorta… I dunno, I blurted out the name and it’s been like that since. I rather like it, seems fitting for me.”

“Oh yes, it very much is.”

They were in a comfortable silence again, until Crowley spoke up once more. “Did you know I worked as a nanny?”

This seemed to really catch Aziraphale off-guard. “You were a nanny?”

“Yeah! Went with a whole goth Mary Poppins theme too, and people still hired me! I’m actually really good with kids, love ‘em. They’re up to no good even if they don’t know they are and are pretty damn hilarious. But yeah, up until I died, I use to be a nanny! Even had a really sweet gig working for an American ambassador’s kid for a bit, got paid fantastically.”

From there, the angel told the bookseller about the fun he had, teaching the kid dark nursery rhymes and the like, showing him all the strangeness of the world, even telling him that one day he’d crush his enemies under his heel. While they spoke to one another, Aziraphale never once removed his hand from Crowley’s own.

As they sat and chatted, they both knew there was an unanswered question that Aziraphale didn’t ask and Crowley didn’t answer, but they knew it was there in the air.

_How did you die?_

\--

“I had a lovely time today.”

Crowley looked up from his phone, seeing Aziraphale standing in the doorway of the guestroom, dressed in his pajamas. The human was smiling, and Crowley returned the expression. “I’m glad you did. Thank you for givin’ me a tour around London, didn’t realize I missed the old place.”

“I’m happy to hear you had a good time.”

“Angel,” Crowley started, setting his phone aside, “I’d like to take you somewhere on your next day off, or whenever we can do it. I’d like to show you a little of my past, if that’s alright.”

Aziraphale looked at him, giving a nod, his smile still in place, honest and without any hesitation. “I’d like that. I’d love to get to know more about you, Crowley.”

“And I’d love to get to know more about you, Aziraphale.”

The blond nodded, turning to head down the hall. “Good night, my dear. I’ll see you in the morning.”

“Night.” Crowley replied, hearing him go down the hall to his room before he grabbed his phone again.

He bit his lip. Aziraphale knew he had once been human, but that only scratched the surface of who Anthony J. Crawley had been, who Ashtoreth J. Crawley had been.

Crowley wanted Aziraphale to know him inside out, something made him want to tell the other his whole life’s story. But he was so scared, there was so much about who he had been when he was human that could scare off the man, that could make it hard for him to help Aziraphale with his problems, could make it hard for the human to trust him.

Being in love really brings on the stress.

TBC

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> There will be another date next chapter, and we’re introduced to some new characters!
> 
> Also, I may or may not have projected on Crowley about the whole gender thing, but sometimes you find the right character to help you with that and you say ‘fuck it, let’s do it.’ 
> 
> Next chapter: Crowley introduces Aziraphale to some people of his past and opens up a little more. In return, he learns a little more about his human.
> 
> Thanks for reading! Please comment and kudos!


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